


Sins Of Our Elders

by AppleScruff



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Liam, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleScruff/pseuds/AppleScruff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crown prince Liam Payne tempts fate when he slips out of the palace, late one night. But fate is not to be played with and Liam ends up in the hands of his father's enemies. In exchange for his freedom, they ask him for the ultimate sacrifice. Is he able to say no, especially to the boy with the beautiful ember eyes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: Liam is the son of ruthless king. One day Liam is kidnapped by people who wants to depose the king from his throne and live peacefully. The son of leader (Zayn ,Harry, Niall, Louis- doesn't matter) can't help it and falls in love with him even though Liam is his enemy.

                                                                   

The smell of beer and vomit wafts into Liam’s face as he enters the inn. He has to suppress the urge to cover his mouth and nose in disgust. If people see him hide away from the smell, they’ll know he’s never been in an inn before.

Liam keeps his head down as he walks through the room to one of the empty tables. The cloak he’s wearing hides most of his face as does the fake beard glued to his chin. It’s imperative that nobody recognizes him.

You see, Liam is the only son of the king who rules this country. If a bad person recognizes him, they might try to kidnap him and ask King Maximilian for ransom. It’s the reason why his father has never let him out of the castle. Liam has never been outside before today. His father told him he was only allowed to visit their lands when he came off age

Liam’s father doesn’t know that his son has left the castle under the cover of night. He thinks his son is lying in his bed right now, sleeping. Liam has always been an obedient son, so he doesn’t have a reason to think otherwise. He doesn’t know about the dream Liam has harboured for years. He doesn’t know Liam has always wanted to walk amongst his subjects unnoticed – visit a market, drink a beer at a local inn, any of the things everybody but him can do.

There weren’t many guards who were holding vigil in front of Liam’s room tonight, so it was easy for him to sneak out. Claude had nodded off when Liam had slipped outside and the other guard on duty had been Jonathan, a guard with bad eyesight but impeccable hearing. Liam had tied cushions under his feet to muffle his footsteps, which he’d discarded when he’d run out of the castle.

He’d thought about nicking a horse from the stables but he’d realized, if he wanted to be inconspicuous, it would be better if he went on foot. So he did and Liam is regretting his decision now. His feet  are hurting from walking on the pebbled road.

Luckily he can sit down now,  he’s reached the first of the empty tables. It’s a bit in the back but it’s better that way anyway. Now he can lurk from the shadows and watch the common man go about his business without being noticed.

One of the things Liam was taught when he was little was how his subjects lived their lives. His tutors told him about the baker making bread, the seamstress making clothes, the farmer tending to his crop. He also learned about the robbers and murderers and that they were the reason why the country needed a king. A king was the only one who could hold these kind of criminals in check.

Liam had always liked these lessons more than those about all the battles that were fought in his kingdom and beyond. He didn’t care too much about hearing about all the great deeds of his ancestor Roderick the Great. What does he care that someone who lived far in the past won the battle against their mortal enemies, the Robinettes. He found the lives of the ordinary people far more fascinating.

Not having any friends when he grew up, Liam had wondered what it’d be like to interact with people of his own age rather than his old teachers. Maybe that’s where the want to walk among his people came from. Maybe it wasn’t just wanting to see how they lived their lives for himself. Liam wouldn’t be opposed to having a conversation with other seventeen-year-olds.

Liam has always wondered why there weren’t any kids of his own age at the castle. The only people residing within the solid walls are the guards, some staff and Liam and his father. Back when his mother was still alive, she’d lived at the castle as well but she died thirteen years ago, when Liam had been but four. When she’d gone to reunite with the Sun god, she’d taken the light in Liam’s life with her. His mother used to be the one who played with him, the one to make him laugh. His dad had always been too busy with being a king.

It took a toll on his father as well. Liam has never seen him smile since his wife died and he spends most of the time he’s either away or locked inside his room. Liam’s father is still grieving his mother’s death even after all these years.

Liam is shaking from his melancholy by a sweet voice and when he lifts his head, he’s greeted with the sight of a very beautiful girl who smiles at him. She’s dressed in a simple, blue dress that fits her body perfectly. She’s thin and has a pale, white skin. Her hair is blonde and pulled together in pig tales. Her cheeks have an healthy blush on them and her lips are an inviting red. Never having met a girl his own age, Liam freezes as a blush spreads over his cheeks.

The girl doesn’t stop smiling when Liam doesn’t react. Instead, she laughs softly before saying, “I’m just gonna get ya a mead. Our’s laced with honey. You’re gonna love it, sweetheart.”

Liam is surprised he can hear her over the sound of his own heart pounding. He forces himself to nod to indicate he’s heard her. The girl let’s out another laugh as she tells him. “You’re cute. I’m gonna give ya an extra slice of cake to go with ya drink.” Liam wonders how she can think he’s cute when half of his face is hidden by the shadow the hood of his cloak casts. But he’s not going to argue with a girl who’s just given him an compliment. Instead he says, his voice hoarse, “Thank you.”

“You’re a posh boy too, I hear. I’m honoured to serve such esteemed company.” She swirls her skirts and gives a small curtsy. “I’m gonna get ya your drink as soon as possible, sir.” She giggles and winks at him. The rest of Liam’s face flushes red, the heat under his cloak suddenly stifling. She turns around with a twirl of her skirt and walks away to get his order. 

Liam sits back again and lets his eye wonder over the crowd once again. Almost all of the people who’ve come to the pub are men. Most have them are nursing a beer or an ale but almost none of them are eating. Liam wonders if it’s because the food isn’t all that good. He hopes that’s not the case.

Suddenly, there’s a rush of cold air as the front door is opened. A group of four men walk in to the pub with thundering footsteps and for a moment everyone falls silent. You can hear a penny drop as the four man make their way to an empty table. They have a menacing look about them and their presence is all imposing. Liam feels not just intimidated but quite frankly scared. They’re probably murderers, the people who his father needs to protect his subjects from.

Much to Liam’s mortification, they sit down at the table next to him. They don’t even spare him a glance as they get seated, which makes him breathe a little easier. Maybe if he’s quiet, they’ll leave him alone.

Liam sits back so his face disappears into the shadows. It’s now more important than ever that no one discovers his identity. Surely, if the murderers find out who he is, they’ll try to take revenge on his father by killing him. The scary thought makes Liam shudder in fear.

The talking starts up again and the group of four starts talking amongst themselves as well. They talk in hushed tones, clearly not wanting anyone to hear them. Liam tries not to listen in but he can’t really help himself. Especially when he hears his father’s name.

“Surely one of his servants hates him as much as we do.” The conversation becomes inaudible for a few minutes but soon enough Liam’s able to catch a few words again. They make him break out in a sweat and his heart slam painfully against his chest. Liam’s assumptions about the men were right. They are murderers and they’re planning on killing his dad.

“Here’s your mead and cake, love,” the girl in the blue dress chirps, startling both Liam as well as the men sitting at the table next to him. Liam’s hood shifts backwards with the sudden movement and for a few seconds his face is clearly visible. He quickly tugs the treacherous garment forwards but it’s already too late.

“You,” one of the four murderers hisses, making the girl almost drop the plate. Liam shuffles back in fear as he sees the pure hatred in the man’s blue eyes. Or rather the boy’s blue eyes because the murderer is around the same age as Liam.

The boy must have recognized him from the few occasions Liam was allowed to leave the castle when there was a fair in the city. The king would allow Liam to accompany him but only if guards stayed by his side at all times. Even then, Liam had felt like a prisoner. What Liam wouldn’t give to have those guards by his side at the moment.

“Who’s he, Louis?” the murderer to his right asks.

“Enjoy your meal.” The girl quickly puts down the plate and hurries back to the bar.

“He’s the king’s son,” the blue eyed murderer, Louis, spits out. His eyes gleam dangerously and a creepy grin appears on  his lips. “I think we found our way in, guys.”

The murderers must have some kind of telepathic connection because they immediately understand what their companion is getting at. Looks of understanding followed by determination crosses their faces. They move towards Liam at the same time.

Liam tries to escape. He jumps up from his chair and tries to make his way to the door. But the murderers are quicker and they grab a hold of him before he can even reach the door. Liam lets out a scream as he’s dragged backwards but it’s cut short when a hand is put over his mouth.

If they think Liam is going down without a fight, they’re surely mistaken. If they’re going to kill him, he’s going to make them work for it.

Liam starts to struggle against the arm around his waist. Why isn’t someone trying to help him? Surely people aren’t just going to let them murder him? But why is it than that the only sound of struggle he hears is that of his own. The rest of the pub is eerily silent.

“Stop struggling,” Liam’s capturer hisses between clinched teeth before putting something cold and sharp against his throat. The young prince stops struggling at once.

“That’s better.” The man holding Liam sound smug, happy to have control over the situation once again. “We’re going to go outside and you’re not going to try to escape. If you do, you’ll have a knife in your back. Nelson, go fetch a piece of rope we can bind our little prince’s hands with.”

The tallest of the murderers walks passed Liam and disappears through the front door. He comes back a few seconds later with rope in his hand. He’s the one that binds Liam’s hands while his companion keeps the knife pressed to his throat.

When the tall murderer is finished, his friend takes the knife away from Liam’s throat and puts it up against his spine instead. “Now walk. We’re going to take you to Master Malik.”

The name Malik causes Liam’s heart to freeze up in fear. He’s heard his father rage about Malik to many times to count and it was always in fear. The man terrorizes the country and has tried to steal his father’s crown many times. And if that isn’t enough to fear him, according to gossip in the castle, he tortures his victims before eating them.

“Please, don’t” Liam whimpers, not caring how pathetic he must sound. “I’d rather you kill me.”

“That’s not going to happen. NOW, MOVE!” the murderer with the knife barks at Liam. He digs his iron weapon into Liam’s back which leaves the young prince no choice but to follow his order.

The cold night wind cuts into Liam’s face as he steps out of the inn, his kidnapper following close behind. The plentiful stars are the only source of light, the moon is nothing but a small crescent in the inky black sky.

Liam has always liked the stars. He would watch them from his window at night and whenever one fell from the sky, he’d make a wish. Almost always he’d wish for the chance to escape from the castle and see the rest of the world. He wanted to explore the many lands across from the borders of his kingdom.

And tonight he had been free only to be trapped once again. But this time he was captured by his enemies. Instead of wanting to protect him, this men want to kill him, at least after he’s served his purpose for them.

Liam and his capturers walk passed the small stable next to the inn. Apparently, they hadn’t come here with horses. They continue walking and Liam is forced to follow them by the press of the knife in his back.

After having walked for half an hour, Liam’s feet start to hurt. But he doesn’t dare to complain. He knows either they will accuse him of being a spoiled little brat and laugh at him or they will get mad at him. He doesn’t want to have to endure either of those humiliations, so he bears the pain instead.

Luckily for him, it isn’t long before they stop in front of another inn. This one is much bigger than the one they just came from. There’s chatter coming from behind the closed door as well as dancing music.

When Liam enters the inn, he suddenly feels overwhelmed by the big wave of noise that washes over him. It’s so rowdy and people are dancing, bumping into each other. Suddenly, a small fight breaks which only lasts a few seconds when one of them is knocked unconscious.

“Come on, keep walking. I don’t fancy standing out in the cold all night,” Liam’s captor hisses at him when Liam stills on the threshold, jabbing him with the dagger.

This shakes Liam from his stupor. He immediately starts walking again. The older man lays a hand on Liam and stirs him where he needs to go.

As they maneuver passed the tables, Liam can hear the conversations halt and people start staring at him. The silence is followed by whispers. ‘Is that indeed who I think he is?’ ‘Why is someone holding a dagger to his back?’ Even though they recognize him, nobody tries to help him. Liam can feel panic claw away at him as he realizes he’s not going to be rescued once again. Are all of those people really so afraid of his captor?

They are walking towards a group of men sitting at the back of the inn, huddled up together and clearly up to no good. Liam can immediately see who of them is the leader. There’s no mistaken in the way all the other men look for approval at the man with dark hair and a black beard. His eyes are hazel and twinkle in the dimly lit room like two gemstones. He has a tan skin and thin red lips that are set in a straight line. There’s something about him that draws even Liam in. He feels like a small magnet, being pulled towards a larger one. It’s no wonder he’s the leader.

And next to him, there’s a boy who has the same dark hair and tan skin. His eyes too seem to shine as he watches the other men’s every move. He must be the leader’s son and the most beautiful being Liam’s ever seen. For a moment Liam forgets how to breath as he takes in the sight of the other boy.

Liam has always known he likes boys as much as he likes girls. Even from a young age, he would find himself wanting the attention of both sexes. Both the maids and servants were more than happy to give him their attention. But then when he reached the age that he could enjoy the pleasures of love, he’d realized he could never give in to his attraction  towards men. His father would never approve of it and his father would surely come to know of it if he shared his bed with someone of his own sex.

So, he’s suppressed half of what he was and he’s been successful at doing so. But then again, none of the servants had looked like the boy with the tan skin. If that were the case, he would’ve given up the struggle long ago.

“Sir, we have a surprise for you,” Louis grumbles. He turns his head to scowl at Liam before shifting his eyes back towards his leader. “We brought you the tyrant’s son.”

Now all of a sudden, all eyes are on Liam. On all their faces, there are varying degrees of anger and hatred. The young boy can feel embarrassment and resentment color his cheeks because how dare they look at him that way. He’s not the one who kills people. The leader looks different. There is a harshness to his eyes but the rest of his face is neutral. He doesn’t look at Liam likes he wants to launch at his throat, like his man.

His son is a different story. There’s a look of pure hatred on his face and it feels like a knife to Liam’s heart. Liam doesn’t know why, but for some reason it hurts seeing the beautiful boy look at him like that. Liam wants to kick himself because he shouldn’t care about what the boy thinks of him.

“Niall, give our guest a seat,” the leader instructs one of the men. A blonde man stands up while cursing under his breath. His blue eyes are dark with anger as he grabs Liam by his shoulders and shoves him unto his seat. Liam lands with an oomph, but it’s the only sound he dares to make.

“So, are you indeed our king’s son?” the leader ask. He’s looking at Liam with narrowed eyes and scrounged up eyebrows.

It’s probably Liam’s best bet to reveal his identity. Maybe he can convince them not to murder him if he promises them money from his father. He knows his father would pay them anything to free his son.

“Yes, my dad’s the king. I’m your prince and I demand you let me go.” Liam tries to look brave as he attempts to stare Malik down but it’s thwarted by the quiver in his voice. He isn’t used to this, acting brave when he’s about to piss his breeches.

Something flashes in the leader’s eyes. His mouth tightens and the muscle of his jaw twitches. For a moment Liam thinks Malik is going to yell at him. However, his voice is surprisingly calm when he tells Liam, “You know, your father and I go way back.”

“And I bet it’s a very interesting story but I just want to go back to my bed. So please, can you let me go now. My father can pay you if you want money.” Liam really doesn’t know where his courage is coming from. Malik tortures and eats his victims and here he is, making demands. Would his father be proud if he heard about this?

“I don’t want your dad’s _money_.” The leader spits out the last word. Something sparks inside his eyes, a fire that turns his golden eyes the color of bronze. “I’m going to kill him and you’re going to help me.”

“I’m what!” Liam exclaims. His eyes are huge and his mouth has fallen open. He quickly closes it again. “No way in hell I’m going to help you kill my father.”

“You’re really not going to have any choice, though,” the murderer with blue eyes sneers. He’s standing just beside the leader’s son. He’s looking at Liam like he’s nothing more than the dirt underneath his shoe. “If you don’t help us, we’ll kill you.”

“Then kill me. I don’t care. I’m not going to help you kill the king.” Even though Liam means everything he’s saying, he really hopes it won’t come to this. He’d rather live a long life and rule the country with the a peaceful hand the way his father does.

The leader closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. Pity has replaced rage in their brown color. “That’s all very brave of you but you know your father would never do the same for you, right? Your father is a man that knows no honor.”

“That’s a lie,” Liam yells as he smacks his fist down on the table, making the cups with beer on the table rattle. “My father would do _anything_ for me, anything for his people. You’re the ones without honor.”

This sets off the whole table. Every men starts yelling at Liam at once and the young prince can’t do anything but cower back at the sudden onslaught. His eyes flit between their angry faces in fear. Surely he’s done it now. They’re going to kill him.

“That’s enough,” the leader suddenly yells and immediately, the men fall silent. They still look at Liam with rage in their eyes but their mouths are shut.

The leader looks at Liam with pity in his eyes. It makes the prince’s skin crawl and rage build inside of his chest. How dare he look at Liam that way.

“I’m sorry you think your father is such a great man,” the leader tells Liam. “Thirteen years ago you would have been right. But much has changes since then. Your father is no longer the benevolent king he used to be. Now, he terrorizes the kingdom, killing innocent people, taking from the poor who have nothing left to give him. Your father is guilty of suppressing his people and tearing families apart, including mine.”

“That’s not true. You’re lying,” Liam yells at the leader. How dare he says those awful things about his father. His father is a noble man, a righteous king. He would never do those things Malik is accusing him off. “You’re the ones who kill innocent people.”

“We never killed someone who didn’t deserve it.” It the first thing Malik’s son has said since Liam joined them at their table. He’s looking at Liam with eyes that seem to burn with fire. A blush spreads over the prince’s whole body at the sight. He never knew an angry person could get him flustered. “All my father said about your father is true. He’s a tyrant who needs to be killed. He killed my mother and many others.”

“If he killed your mother, she must have done something to deserve it.”

Malik’s son jumps up from his chair and launches for Liam. Nobody stops him when flies over the table and grabs Liam by his collar. Up close, the boy’s face looks even more perfect. His eyelashes appear to be even longer and his cheekbones even more defined. But what really takes the cake is how brilliant his eyes look as he stares at Liam with anger shining in them.

“My mother did nothing to deserve the way she died,” Zayn hisses, his breath fanning out over Liam’s face. It smells quite pleasant, of spices and mint. “All she did was protect her honor and the king, your oh so honorable father, cut of her head off because of it. We didn’t even get the chance to bury her, he burned her body like she was some sort of pagan.” Zayn’s eyes fill with tears and Liam can feel his heart break at the sight. “Now she can’t dine in the hall with her ancestors.”

If someone dies an heroic death, they get to dine in the Sun God’s hall with their ancestors if their body is buried. If they’re burned instead, they’re not even allowed into the garden where the people who died an ordinary death spend the rest of eternity. Instead, their shade is cursed to roam the land of the living forever more, forced to watch their loved ones die, one after the other.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Liam whispers and he means it. He knows how it feels losing your mother and his was buried. He can’t imagine how the boy must be feeling. “But I can’t believe my father would do something like that. You must have mistake some other man for my father.”

“If only that were true,” the leader admits with a sigh. “Come, Zayn. Let go of the prince.”

The leader’s son, apparently called Zayn, let’s go of Liam’s collar and sits back down on his chair.

“I understand this must be difficult for you, but I need you to understand that we’re telling the truth,” Malik tells Liam. He’s looking at the younger man with kind eyes. “I don’t know what lies your father has told you about me, but none of them are true.”

Malik does seem nice, even though he does want to kill his father. He can’t imagine seeing the man in front of him torturing and eating people but what does Liam know? He’s been cooped up in the castle almost all his life and the only interactions with fellow humans had been with his servants and the guards. Maybe he’s really bad at reading people.

“I _have_ killed people but only the ones who were spilling blood of others. I hate using violence but I’m not afraid to use it when it’s necessary.”

“Sir, maybe we can show him what his father is doing to the kingdom.” The leader turns to person who’s addressed him. It’s the man called Nelson. “He’ll be of more of help to us if he willing offers his services.”

Nelson must be stark raving mad if he thinks Liam is ever going to agree to helping them kill his father. He doesn’t tell him that of course because he wants to live, thank you very much.

“That’s a really good idea, Nelson,” the leader compliments the dark blonde man. Nelson preens under his praise, sporting a grin and a blush on his cheeks. Malik’s eyes return to Liam’s face. “I hope after you see what you’re father puts his people through, you will agree to join us.”

“What if I don’t?” Liam asks, eyes narrowed.

“Then we’ll let you go free as soon as we killed the tyrant. But when I’m king you will be banished from the kingdom.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Wake up, princess. We’re leaving.”

Someone starts jostling Liam and for a moment he’s very confused. Why is one of the servants pushing him and why are they yelling at him?

But then he opens his eyes and when he sees a face with blue eyes colored with irritation hovering above him, it all comes back. He’s been kidnapped.

He’s spend the night sleeping on the ground because the band of criminals that abducted him didn’t deem him worthy of a mattress. They probably thought he should be grateful he got a tent of his own. The only thing they’d given him was a blanket and only because their leader told them to do so. He also told them to tie Liam up to the center pole of the tent. That’s why he can feel pins and needles dig into his hand.

“Don’t call me a princess,” Liam tells the man with the blue eyes grumpily. He throws the blanket off of himself with his feet and sits up on his knees so he can glare at Louis properly. Now that he knows they won’t kill him, he isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“I will call you a princess because you _are_ one,” Louis shots back. He doesn’t look impressed by Liam’s sudden attitude. Liam’s eyes follow the other boy as he gets off of his knees and towers over him. “You’re a nitwit who does nothing but complain. I’m glad it’s George who’ll be keeping an eye on you.  I don’t have to endure you whining about everything.”

“I’m not some spoiled brat,” Liam barks at Louis. He really has enough of the other boy’s attitude. “You don’t know me at all.”

“And I don’t want to get to know you either.” Is Louis snide reply. “You’re probably just like your father.”

“I’m not like my father,” Liam protests because he really isn’t. His father is distant and cold sometimes while Liam likes to think he’s approachable and friendly.

But of course it falls to deaf ears. Louis ignores him and walks back to the opening of the tent. Just before he leaves, he turns around again. “Your breakfast is on the small table.”

After the tent flap has fallen shut behind Louis, Liam suddenly realizes he has no way to get to the food or to eat it for that matter. It wouldn’t surprise Liam if Louis did it on purpose.

Liam could call out for someone to help him but he doubts any of them would react to his calls. These guys hate him, they would love to see Liam suffer. They would probably put the food right in front of him and then leave again so all Liam can do is look at the food. He doesn’t want to give them that satisfaction so he decides he’s going to skip breakfast today.

A few moments later, a huge man walks into the tent. He has a wild mane of hair, small blue eyes and a huge mouth. There are scars across his face, one of them cutting his face in two. He only has one ear and Liam can’t help but wonder in horror what he’s lost it too. Maybe he lost it while he was fighting a bear. He looks like he can handle such a dangerous animal. This must be George.

“The boss told me I’m the one who’s gonna take care of ya,” the man mumbles. His voice is gruff, just like Liam’d expected it to be. “So don’ try any funny business. I won’ hesitate breaking ya neck.”

Liam isn’t too sure if it’s an empty threat because even though Malik doesn’t want him killed, it doesn’t mean this brute of a man can’t do it by accident. He probably doesn’t know his own power.

Being raised to always be polite to strangers, Liam smiles at the bear of a man as he kneels down next to him. He reaches for Liam’s hands and starts untying them. “It’s nice to meet you George.”

“Yeah well, I don’ wan ya talkin’ to me,” George grumbles. He pulls of the rope and Liam lets out a sigh of relieve as feeling begins to return to his hands. “I’m no’ gonna to make pleasant wit’ ya. I’m just gonna stop ya from runnin’, tha’s all.”

Liam’s smile falters a little bit. He can feel something squeeze his heart even though he knew he should’ve expected this. Didn’t he just tell himself a moment ago that George and his comrades hate him? He should really get used to being treated this way.

George rises to his feet again and Liam does the same. He almost keels over because his legs feel like jelly. He slept in a not very comfortable position last night and now he’s paying the price. Luckily, he’s able to grab the pole and regain his balance.

“You’re gonna be ridin’ on a horse wit’ me,” George tells Liam as they walk out of the tent. The morning sun temporarily blinds Liam and he much to his mortification he bumps into someone.

“Look where ya going, will ya,” the person barks at him. Liam blinks a few times and suddenly he’s able to see the other person’s face. It’s the blonde guy, Niall, from last night and he’s glaring at Liam.

“Sorry, won’t happen again,” Liam quickly apologizes.

“It better not,” Niall threatens before continuing walking again.

“Ya really need ta learn not to get in our way,” George tells Liam. He starts walking again and Liam hastens after him. “We may end up killin’ ya, anyway. Ya know, so ya no’ as much as a burden.” For some reason George finds it funny because he laughs at his own words.

Liam can feel irritation boil inside his chest but he chooses to ignore it. It’s one thing to talk back to Louis, but going against a guy like George is a whole different ballpark.

As Liam and George walk through the camp, the prince lets his eyes wonder over the people who’re preparing to leave. Most of them are male and older than him but some are female or of Liam’s age. There aren’t many rebels, Liam can only count 15. Are all of them murderers? Do all of them want to see a villain of Malik’s proportions on the throne? Why? Aren’t they happy enough with slitting throats in dark alleys anymore?

There’s a large cart in the middle of the camp. Two oxen are waiting with shuffling feet as people load it with pots and large pieces of clothe Liam recognizes as being used for the tents.

The horses are tied to the trees in groups of three at the edge of the camp. George’s grey mare is standing with two black stallions and she seems to be quite cozy.

“Hey there, Daisy. Ya had a good night’s sleep?” George coos at his horse. She neighs and nods her head, as if she’s seeing yes. George walks up to her and lays a hand on her behind. “That’s a good girl. Papa is back.”

Liam has to admit it’s quite endearing, hearing such a burly guy talk to his horse like he’s talking to a little child. He’s surprised his warden shows this soft side of himself. Or maybe it’s some sort of ruse, making him think George has a soft spot. Liam can’t really tell with these people.

Reading people has always been difficult for Liam. He never knew if people were being nice to him because he was the prince or because they genuinely liked him. It’s because he hasn’t had  lot of practice with human interaction, being a prisoner in the castle his whole life.

Maybe because of it, he’s ended up in the hands of these bandits. Last night he’d thought that if someone did recognize him, they’d be in awe and he’d be able to convince then to not tell anybody about having seen him. He hadn’t counted on someone hating him and his father so much that they would try to kill him. Maybe if he had known the true nature of people, he would have thought twice about leaving the castle on his own.

George walks to the other side of the tree and gestures for Liam to come closer. Liam walks up to him and as soon as he’s within arms’ reach, George’s grabs him by his wrists and presses his hands against the bark of the tree.

“What are you doing?” Liam asks, his voice a bit squeaky.

“I’m gonna tie ya to tha tree for the time bein’,” George explains. One if his hands disappears in his satchel and a few seconds later it reappears with a piece of robe between the finger. “Don’ wan’ ya sneakin’ around while I pack the tent.”

Liam wants to protest but he knows it’s futile. With mortification painting his cheeks pink, the prince has to endure being tied to the tree like some kind of animal.

When George is sure the knot is tight enough, he steps back and announces, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’ go anywhere.” George walks away while snickering at his own joke.

As he waits for his jailor to return, Liam has to endure all kinds of taunts from his captors. They call him names, poke him or spit on him. Liam has never felt more humiliated in his life. He expects Niall or at least Louis to try to get their pound of flesh but both of them just ignore him. They’re the only ones, aside from Malik and his son and a boy with a mop of brown curls and forest green eyes. The last boy only looks at him with pity in his eyes, making Liam want to strangle him. He doesn’t want pity from anyone, especially not from murderers.

It takes George a while to return. Liam feels himself relax when he sees the big man walk towards him with large strides. He’d started to think the man had left him behind when people started taking away the horses around him. But of course he wouldn’t do that, he seems to be very fond of his horse so he would never leave her behind.

George unties his horse first. He then proceeds to untie Liam with the hand that’s not holding the reigns. “I’m gonna need ya to get on tha horse on ya own. Think ya can do tha?”

“Sure,” Liam mumbles. Part of his education as the prince was learning how to ride a horse. It was important for a king to be able to travel on their own. And if God forbid, there was an outbreak of war, they should be able to lead the troops as well.

Much to his relieve, Liam is able to climb on the horse and not fall off on the other side. Liam had even been able to look a bit graceful without anyone helping him, but that’s nothing compared to the smoothness with which George seats himself on his horse. One moment he’s standing next to the grey mare and the next he’s sitting just behind Liam.

George presses his knees against the side of the horse and the mare immediately starts walking. He stirs her towards were the majority of his henchmen are waiting for him. The rest of them are only now climbing onto their horses.

“The boss wants us to ride next to ‘im,” George tells Liam. “He’s probably gonna want to talk ta ya. Don’t say anythin’ unless ya spoken to.”

Liam nods his head to let George know he understands.

George rides up to Malik, who’s upper body is clad in armor. He has a sword attached to his belt because of course the rebels have more than only daggers for weapons. It’s only then that Liam sees that all the men are armed with swords. These aren’t just murderers with grand ideas, they’re a small army.

It’s only now that Liam realizes just how serious these men are. They really are planning to take down his father and they’re going to use force if need be. There’s a big chance they’ll kill his father even without his help. But why then do they need his help?

“I want you to ride with me,” Malik announces. He’s addressing Liam even though George is stirring the horse. Malik’s son’s horse is impatiently shifting from one hove to another next to him. The rider’s eyes never stray long from Liam’s face. The other boy can’t keep a blush from crawling up his cheeks at the attention.

Zayn looks even more beautiful now that Liam can see him properly in the daylight. His cheekbones look a little less pronounced now that candles aren’t casting shadows but his lashes seem longer. His lips look even pinker as well.

Malik doesn’t seem to notice Liam is staring at his son or he chooses not to comment on it. People probably stare at Zayn all the time. Instead, he continues talking. “We’re going to be riding back to our stronghold. It’ll probably take about seven days to get there. On the way, we’ll make a few stops.”

Probably stops to kill people, quench their thirst for blood. And Liam is going to have to witness it. He’s going have to watch as they kill innocent people and there isn’t anything he’ll be able to do about it.

All of the rebels are ready to starts their journey, so Malik forces his horse to start walking. His troops wait as he goes by, Zayn on one side, George and Liam on the other. All men look at him with awe, as if their leader is some high priest who just performed a miracle. Liam just hopes he’ll never become one of them.

“I hope you slept well?” Malik asks as they ride into the forest.

“As good as you can when you’re tied to a pole,” Liam murmurs, not wanting to piss of the leader but not really feeling like making small talk. He doesn’t want to get personal with the leader. With his son on the other hand… No, no. Liam can’t go there. Sure, Zayn’s attractive but no.

“That was necessary. I hope that’ll chance in the future,” is Malik’s reply. He gives Liam the side eye before focusing his eyes back on the road. “While we’re riding to the stronghold, you’re going to see what your father does to this country. You’re going to see the misery, the pain he inflicts on the people you claim he loves. If you don’t join us after you’ve seen all of that, I’ll weep for your soul.”

Only two hours into their journey, the rebels come across a village. There’s a small fete being held, loud music audible long before the village is revealed to their eyes. It reminds Liam of the festivals he went to with his dad.

Malik decides they’re going to make a small stop. He doesn’t tell his men why, but they don’t hesitate to follow his orders. Liam can tell by the look on their faces they don’t want to either. They seem excited to take part in a celebration.

“I want you and George to go too,” Malik tells Liam as his men tie their horses to the trees. “It’s common knowledge you’ve only ever visited the city surrounding the palace. It’s time you get to know the rest of your people.”

Liam isn’t going to say no to that proposal. Maybe he can buy some food and he can finally have breakfast. Luckily for him, they didn’t take away his money when they’d stripped him from his weapons when they’d left the inn. They probably let him keep it because it’s so little.

George gets of the horse first. He turns around and lifts Liam off of the mare as well. He puts Liam down on the ground and Liam opens his mouth to thank him. But before the words can leave his mouth, George has already turned around and is walking into the village with the other men. Liam quickly follows him.

The streets are not as crowded as Liam’s used to. People are able to walk side by side without bumping into each other. This is so different from the city. But what strikes Liam the most is that everybody seems to know everybody. People greet each person they walk past.

“Do you guys come here often?” Liam asks George because people are greeting Malik’s men.

George shakes his head. “No. These folks are jus’ extremely friendly.”

That must indeed be it because suddenly a man wishes him a good morning as he walks by and Liam knows for sure he has never been to this village. Liam quickly greets the man back but he’s already out if earshot.

“If folks ask ya name, use anotha,” George advises Liam. “People don’t take too kindla to ya bein’ our prince. Tha probably would try to skin ya alive”

Liam has to swallow before he’s able to speak. “Thank you for the advice.” George just grumbles and continues walking.

Not before long, they walk past a stand where all kinds of bread are being sold. Liam’s stomach grumbles at the delicious smell coming from the loaves.

“I wanna buy some bread,” Liam tells George. The taller man stops walking and turns around with a confused look on his face.

“Why?”

“Because I’m hungry,” Liam replies, trying his hardest not to let his irritation shine through. “I’m going to buy it with my own money.”

“They let ya keep it, then?” George raises one eyebrow as if he can’t believe his follow rebels would do that. “Can’ be a lot, if they didn’ take it from ya.”

“No, but it is enough to buy some bread.”

“I doubt it,” George says with a snicker. He raises his eyebrow again when he sees Liam hasn’t gone to buy his bread, yet. “Well, go on, than. Buy ya bread.”

Suddenly, Liam feels uneasy. Why did George laugh? Is bread really that expensive in the village that 8 golden coins can’t cover it. Well, Liam doesn’t really have a choice. He has to buy the bread so he can eat. All he can do is hope that George is just messing with him.

With his heart beating rapidly in his chest and sweaty palms holding on to his small pouch with money, Liam walks up to the stand. He smiles at the seller, who smiles back at him. It calms his nerves, but only a little bit.

“How much for the bread?” Liam asks.

“Twenty golden coins,” the seller tells Liam, not hint of humor showing on his face.

“What!” Liam exclaims, his eyes growing wide in surprise. “You got to be kidding me. Why’s so expensive?”

The seller doesn’t take Liam’s surprise too well. He narrows his eyes and presses his lips together. “I don’t make jokes about these kind of things. The harvest was not a very good one. Half of our crops withered because of the draught and almost all of the rest were taken away by the king’s men. I have to sell my bread at such a high prize because I’ll need it to feed my children.”

Liam can’t believe what he’s hearing. There must be some misunderstanding. “Did you tell them you had a bad harvest?”

The seller casts his eyes down and his mouth begins to tremble. For a moment, Liam thinks the older man is going to cry but there isn’t sadness in his voice but fear when he continues. “I told them. They told me they’d take my wife and daughter away from me if I didn’t give them my grain. Now I fear I might lose them anyway when they die from hunger.”

Liam can’t believe his ears. He never knew there was such misdemeanor amongst his father’s troops. He’d always though the men were loyal to their king but apparently some of them are trying fill their own pockets. As soon as he gets back home, he has to tell his father about this.

But then Liam remembers he’s not going back. The rebels are the ones who are going back to the palace while Liam is back at their stronghold, having refused to help them. Malik will take power and people like the ones who threatened the baker who’s apparently a miller as well, will have free reign. They’ll probably be joined be even more horrible people.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Were you the only one who’s harvest was ruined?” Liam asks, his eyebrows scrounged up.

“No, almost everybody’s crop didn’t survive.”

“Why are you celebrating, if you’re going through a tough time?” Liam asks. He doesn’t understand how people can be cheerful when they’re short on food.

“Because there isn’t much else we can do,” the baker explains. He lifts his head again and looks Liam straight in the eyes. Liam can feel sweat run down his spine because what if the baker recognizes him? “It keeps up moral. Besides, it reminds us there are happy moments in our live we can celebrate and that after darkness, light will always follow.”

Liam can feel tears pressing against the corners of his eyes but he holds them back. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the other man. He’ll ask questions Liam can’t answer. So instead, he asks, “Is there a way I can buy half of the bread for eight golden coins? It’s all I have and I’m starving.”

“I guess I can sell you half of the bread,” the baker tells Liam and the younger man gives him a grateful smile. He unties his pouch from around his belt and empties it on the counter of the stand. In return, the baker gives him half of the bread. Liam thanks him.

“This is wha ya father’s men do,” George tells Liam as he joins him again. Apparently, he’s eavesdropped on Liam and the baker’s conversation. Liam can feel irritation boil inside of him because the conversation was sort of private.

“Yeah well, they clearly didn’t follow his orders. My father would never take away grain if a family needed it to survive.” Liam knows this because he knows his father. He may be cold and distant but he’s a good man.

“They _do_ follow his orders. Apparently it’s hard for ya to understand but your father is a ruthless tyrant. He takes and he takes, yet he never gives back.”

Liam wants to strangle George so badly. He can feel the anger boil inside himself, begging to be released by a fist to the jaw and a strong grip on a throat but Liam controls himself. George’ll probably knock him out before he has to chance to harm him.

“My father has given everything for this country,” Liam hisses. He’s really struggling with keeping his voice down, the fear of being ripped apart by an angry mob is the only thing holding him back from yelling at his jailor. “This country hasn’t been to war in almost twenty years because of him.”

“Yea, and instead of war we ge’ a king who oppresses us, laughs at our pain and takes whatever he thinks belongs to him.” George’s eyes are now narrowed and he’s glaring at Liam. “ I hope ya see ya father for who he really is before it’s too late.”

As Liam and George make their way along the rest of the stalls, Liam looks anywhere but at his jailer’s head. He fears he might do something reckless while the anger is still in his system. Instead, his eyes wonder over the crowd.

Most people look happy, smiles on their faces as they walk down the streets, but now with the new knowledge he’s acquired, Liam is able to see the sadness that the joy covers. He can see pain in their eyes. The grown-ups smile at their children but when they look away, their parents let their smile fall for a moment before their mask goes back up. It’s really clear this village is suffering.

As Liam walks past a pottery stand, his eyes find their way to the stand at the other side of the street. His heart skips a beat when he sees Zayn is standing in front of it. Louis and Niall are with him. Liam can’t tear his eyes away like every time he sees the rebel leader’s son.

That is, until he turns around and looks Liam straight in the eyes. Liam’s cheeks fluster red in mortification. He quickly looks away but the damage has already been done. Zayn has seen him staring.

Of course, George is now staring at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why’re you staring?”

“I just – I wasn’t,” Liam stutters. His whole face is now red. He can  feel the stares of Zayn, Louis and Niall at the back of his neck.

“Were ya starin’ a the boss’s son?” George inquires.

“No, I was not.” It comes out more defensive then Liam was aiming for. “I was just, you know, looking at the fish they were selling.” It sounds lame, even to his own ears.

“I don’t know and I don’t believe it neither,” George tells Liam. He grabs the younger man by his shoulders and pushes him in front of him. “Don’t do i’ again. Boss won’t like tha’.”

Of course he won’t. Liam is just the son of his rival for the throne. He’s just a means to get what Malik wants. Liam can kick himself for forgetting for a moment in what for kind of situation he’s in. For forgetting who Zayn is.

Liam and George walk around for a bit but soon they need to return to the horses. When they return, Malik is already seated on his black stallion, a troubled look on his face. Liam wonders if he’d come off his horse at all.

George helps Liam unto the horse before he himself sits down on the saddle.

“And, did you get to know your people?” Malik asks. He doesn’t look at Liam, instead he looks straight ahead.

“Yeah, I talked to a miller who was selling bread,” Liam replies. He turns his head so he’s no longer looking at Malik but like other man, straight ahead. He furrows his eyebrows as pity settles in his stomach. It’s a very unpleasant feeling.

“Did he tell you about the harvest?” is Malik’s next question. He _did_ get off his horse, than.

“Yeah, he did.”

In the corner of his eye, Liam can see Malik turn his head and for some reason he’s unable to do the same. Maybe it’s because he knows Malik is looking at him with anger in his eyes. Liam’s hands start to tremble because what if Malik decides to kill him after all in a fit of rage? He doesn’t know what the murderer is like.

“And did he tell you how your father’s men treated him?” There’s anger in Malik’s baritone voice but it’s not cold like Liam expected it to be. The rage feels more like a dangerous fire than a blizzard.

“Yeah, he did tell me about how my father’s _men_ treated them.” Liam emphasizes the word men because he wants to make clear he doesn’t think his father has anything to do with what’s happened.

“It’s not the first time something like that has happened,” Malik reveals to Liam. “Your father sucks the famers dry every chance he gets. He doesn’t care if crops have failed or a family has too many mouths to feed. He just takes and he doesn’t care who he hurts in the progress.”

“That’s not my father,” Liam yells at Malik and he turns his head to glare at the older man. “It’s his men who are doing these horrible things, not my dad.”

“Your father’s men are only following _his_ orders,” Malik barks at Liam. For a moment he seems to have lost his cool as his eyes appear to shoot fire. “They’re only taking everything because that’s what _he_ wants.”

“I _don’t_ believe you,” Liam barks back, momentarily forgetting he’s scared shitless of the leader. The anger is overpowering his self-preservation.

Malik turns his head and looks straight ahead again. He relaxes the death grip he has on the reins and drops his shoulders. Air flows past his lips as he takes a deep breath. “I see letting you see the truth is going to be more difficult then I’d expected. Let’s hope it doesn’t take seeing your father do unspeakable things.”

“It won’t, because he doesn’t do unspeakable things.” Liam says through gritted teeth.

“I wish that were true, for your sake.” Malik looks like he _is_ really sorry Liam’s father is the way he wants to convince Liam he is and for a moment the prince feels unsteady. How can a murderer, who wants to overthrow the king because he thinks he’s responsible for killing his wife, feel sorry for _Liam_? “I’m glad he was such a terrific father at home that it made you blind for what he really is.”

Liam wants to say that the king wasn’t really a terrific father. That after his wife, Liam’s mother, died he’d become even more closed-off than he already was and that he’d never again smiled at Liam or petted his head. It were mostly his nannies and tutors who raised him. He doesn’t tell Malik because he will only twist Liam’s difficult childhood into something that proves his theory.

The rebel leader clucks with his tongue and his horse starts moving. George and Liam follow close behind. Zayn is nowhere to be spotted and Liam wants to scan the small army to see where he is, but he restrains himself. He has no business looking at Zayn, not matter how attractive he is.

The rest of the journey, Malik doesn’t say anything. All he does is stare at the road ahead. Liam does the same until his eyes start to drop.

When Liam is about to fall asleep, the leader holds up his hand and the whole army stops. Malik turns around in his saddle and addresses his men. “We traveled far enough today. We’re going to look for clearing where we can make camp.”

His men don’t say a word, just nod their heads. Malik turns around again and presses his horse onwards.

A couple of minutes later, they find a clearing and all of the men descend from their horses. After they tied them to the trees, they start building the camp.

Much to his relieve, George doesn’t tie Liam to a tree. Instead, he tells him he wants the prince to help him with the tent. They have it up in an hour and move on to George’s.

After they’ve put up the tents, Liam walks into his. George follows behind him with a piece of rope. Liam sits down with his back to the pole and holds out his hand. George kneels down and pushes one of Liam’s hands behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Liam mumbles, confused because last time his hands hadn’t been tied behind his back.

“Tyin’ ya hands together, of course,” George replies as he pushes Liam’s other hand behind his back and starts to tie them together.

“Why behind my back? Liam asks. He starts to struggle because he really doesn’t want to spend the night like this but George just ignores his futile attempts. “Hey, I can’t sleep this way.”

“Of course ya can,” George tells Liam as he finishes the knot. He pulls back and smiles at Liam. “Just lean against the pole and close your eyes.”

“Why can’t you just tie my hands a different way?” Liam proposes. Apparently it’s the wrong thing to do because George’s eyes flicker dangerously.

“I’ve had enough if ya complainin’,” he tells Liam with a raised voice, making a jolt of fear shoot through the younger man’s heart. “Ya in no position to make demands. So, shut up.”

George gets to his feet and marches towards the opening of the tent. “Someone’s gonna give ya some food and water. Don’ know when they’ll be here.” And with that, he’s gone.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Liam tries to relax. He doesn’t know how he’ll be able to sleep in this position but apparently he has no choice but to find a way. George getting angry at him has has rattled him, he doesn’t dare to ask the person who’s going to be bringing him food for a favor. They aren’t going to give him what he wants, they hate him.

Liam expects a rebel he’s never met to bring him his food but instead, the last person he expected to be assigned to this chore walks into the tent what feels like hours after George left. Liam immediately flushes when his eyes take in the sight of the dark hair, tan skin and long, long lashes.

“I brought you some food,” Zayn mutters as he walks, no glides towards Liam. It makes the prince think of the way a panther moves. He’s never saw them, but he heard about these dangerous creatures.

Liam’s heart is beating rapidly as Zayn kneels down in front of him and suddenly he feels hot all over. Zayn’s face is unreadable as he looks at Liam. He sets down the plate of food next to him.

“I would’ve killed you but my father thinks your useful,” Zayn tells Liam. He narrows his eyes at the prince. “I don’t think you’re going to help us. You’re the kind of son that sticks with your father no matter what.”

“Wouldn’t you, if it was your father?” Liam inquires with a soft voice. If it was anybody else than Zayn, he would’ve snapped at them.

Zayn lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes wonder to Liam’s lips for a moment before they return to his eyes. “I would have a hard time believing it, like you but I would eventually realize people were right and I would do something about it. I hope you prove my dad right and do the right thing.”

It’s at this heartfelt moment that Liam’s stomach decides to let itself known.

“Oh right,” Zayn mutters. He picks the bowl of food from the ground and sits down with his legs crossed. When his eyes return to Liam’s face, his guard is back up. Once again, the prince is unable to see any emotions in the hazel eyes. “It appears I’m going to need to feed you. My dad failed to mention that.”

Because he hasn’t brought a spoon with him, Zayn picks the food up with his hand and brings it to Liam’s mouth. As he pushes it unto his mouth, his fingertips brush against Liam’s full lips, sending small bolts of electricity through them. If Zayn is able to feel it too, it doesn’t show on his face. He just continues feeding Liam with a blank face.

When Liam’s finished eating and drinking, Zayn stands up again. He picks up the empty boil and walks to the entrance of the tent. With a swirl he turns around again and gives Liam a nod. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Liam mumbles back.

Zayn walks out of the tent and once again Liam is alone.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, Liam is not woken up by someone shoving him. Instead, there’s a soft voice calling his name. Liam doesn’t recognize the person waking him up right away, the voice sounding unfamiliar to his ears but then he opens his eyes.

Instead of blue eyes, there are brown eyes framed by long charcoal lashes staring down at him. Liam is instantly wide awake.

“What? What you doin’ here?” Liam mumbles, confused. He sits upright as he shakes his head, in the effort to chase the morning grogginess away. His arms ache and his back hurts from having to sleep against a pole all night. He forces himself not to show the pain on his face.

“Dad wanted me to give you your breakfast,” Zayn tells Liam. There is a bowl of porridge on the floor next to him. Which is just great; Liam hates eating the gooey grey mass. Maybe he was lucky, missing breakfast yesterday. Don’t the rebels have more decent food?

“Why?” Liam asks. Not that he isn’t happy to see Zayn. Zayn might hate him but for some reason he doesn’t treat him like dirt, the way most of the rebels do. Not even after he made that comment about his mother, which he now regrets horribly.

“I don’t know. My father doesn’t always tell me what goes on in his head,” Zayn mutters as he picks the bowl off of the ground. This time he has brought a spoon as well. The porridge makes a sucking sound as Zayn puts the spoon in the grey substance and Liam has to stop himself from gagging on the spot. “Maybe he thinks if I spend more time with you, I’m going to believe you can change. Now open up.”

“I’m sorry about what I said about your mum.” Liam doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like living with shame, maybe it’s because he hates Zayn thinking bad about him or maybe it’s just a way to buy time before Zayn puts the spoon in his mouth.

Zayn lowers the spoon as a dark shadow crosses his face. For a moment Liam is convinced Zayn is going to throw the porridge in his face and get angry at him but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he pushes his lips into a thin red line and looks at Liam with guarded look in his eyes. “My mum deserved none of what happened to her. I understand it may be difficult for you to understand, but your father is a horrible man and he killed my mother. He destroyed my family and he deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

Tears are gathering in the corners of Zayn’s eyes, putting out the fire of anger Liam can feel roaring in the pit of his stomach. He can’t yell at Zayn, can’t get mad at him when he’s close to tears. He just wants to gather Zayn into his arms and hold him until he’s stopped crying.

Liam doesn’t want to fight with Zayn, so he doesn’t say anything in the defense of his father. Instead, he gives Zayn a soft smile and says, “Weren’t you going to feed me?”

“Yes, right,” Zayn mumbles and lifts the spoon again. There are still tears in the corners of his eyes as he puts the spoon in Liam’s mouth.

Liam manages to eat the porridge without throwing up and within a couple of moments, the small bowl is empty.

“George will be here in a couple of minutes to get you,” Zayn tells Liam. He gets to his feet again, his movements like liquid water. He dusts off his pants before walking to the exit of the tent. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves.

George comes to collect Liam a few moment later. They follow the same routine as yesterday: Liam waits for the older man to finishing breaking down the tents while he’s tied to a tree, George helps Liam climb onto their horse and they ride next to the rebel leader the whole journey.

The routine is not the only thing that’s the same as yesterday. Like the day before, the rebel army stops at a small village and like the one they stopped at the last time, this one has had trouble with their harvest as well. This time there are no celebration to elevate the misery for a moment and Liam can clearly read the sadness from the villagers faces.

When Liam asks a woman why all of the people look so sad, she tells him that the men of the king have taken almost all they had. Like with the miller at the last village, they didn’t care that the villagers and farmers had to eat. They ignored their pleads and just took what they owed to the king, which was a lot even when the harvests were successful.

It breaks Liam’s heart that his father’s men are taking advantage of so many people. They are suffering but tax collectors and the king’s army just takes and takes. If it’s the same in every village, city and in the county, it’s no wonder Malik can rally so many men behind him. He’s probably promised them if he was king he would only take what they could spare, an empty promise of course. Malik may be charismatic and he may seem like a nice guy but Liam trusts him as far as he can throw him.

That day, they don’t travel too far. The sun has just started its decent when the rebel leader tells his men they’re going to make camp. Liam wonders why that is, but he doesn’t dare ask.

When George and Liam have finished putting up their tents, Liam walks into his, expecting George to follow him. Instead, it’s only his voice. “I’m no’ gonna tie ya to tha pole.”

Liam walks back out with a confused look on his face. “Why? What?”

“The boss doesn’t wan’ me tyin’ ya hands anymore. He wants to see if he can trust ya to no’ try to escape.” George explains to Liam. His furrowed brow and the frown on his face tells the prince his jailor doesn’t agree with his leader’s wishes. “There still gonna be people guarding tha camp and anybody is allowed to kill ya if ya try to escape but still. The boss would appreciate it if ya didn’ try.”

“I won’t,” Liam promises George. The older man raises an eyebrow, telling Liam he doesn’t believe he won’t try to make a break for it. Which Liam can sort of understand, seeing he’s been very defiant towards his captors. However, Liam’s not stupid. If the men have been permitted to kill him if he tries to escape, he’s not going to try.

“I surely hope for your sake,” George tells Liam. The brutish man turns around and walks away, leaving Liam on his own.

But now Liam doesn’t really know what to do. He could walk through the camp, look at what the rebels are doing and hope they don’t try to beat him up. It’s not really an idea Liam likes but it’s at least a better option than sit in his tent and do nothing.

Liam takes in a deep breath and wills his shoulders to relax. It seems to help, Liam feels less nervous as he starts walking through the camp. He holds his head up high in the hope it’ll make him less of an easy target.

It seems to work. The rebels give him the evil eye once and again but none of them lay a hand on him. They would probably get into trouble with Malik if they hurt him, which Liam sort of is thankful for.

But it also baffles him because Malik’s behavior these past two days are in sharp contrast with how his father described Malik. Not once has he been tortured or maimed. The people in the villages don’t seem afraid of him. Rather, they welcome him with open arms. Whenever they ride through a village, people look at the rebel leader with awe in their eyes. He doesn’t see any fear written on their faces.

And Liam doesn’t understand because weren’t the villagers supposed to be afraid of him? It doesn’t make any sense. Maybe Liam is missing something because of his lack of knowledge about people.

Liam is shaken from his thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out. It’s Zayn and he’s practicing his sword skills with the curly-haired rebel a few feet away. The darker lad has his head turned in Liam’s direction and Liam can see that he has his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration.

The grace with which he moves, stops Liam in his tracks. He blocks Harry’s attempts easily as he moves with agility. It looks like Zayn is dancing instead of wielding a sword.

“Where’re staring at?” someone suddenly barks and Liam eyes shot to where Louis is standing next to the dueling rebels, glaring at the prince.

“Nothing,” Liam shouts, or rather tries to, back at Louis. His voice is far too soft because of the embarrassment he’s feeling.

“What you say?” Louis yells back.

“Hey, prince. I’m glad to see they let you walk around alone.” The curly-haired rebel has turned around and he’s smiling at Liam. Zayn’s eyes are now on Liam as well but there a blank look on his face.

Liam feels himself grow red at the attention. He doesn’t really know what he should do. Should he continue walking, walk towards Louis, Zayn and the curly-haired lad or maybe say something back?

“Come,” the friendly rebel commands Liam. He gestures for him to come closer, much to the dismay of both of his fellow rebels.

Why is the rebel with green eyes being so nice to him? Why doesn’t he glare at Liam like Louis is doing? Not that he isn’t thankful to have at least one kind person in the godforsaken hell-hole. He just doesn’t understand where the kindness is coming from.

But of course, beggars can’t be choosers, so Liam does what he’s told. He walks towards the three rebels with a thudding heart. He tries to ignore Louis whispering into the curly-haired rebel’s ear which must be harsh words. He’s probably asking why the heck his friend is inviting the enemy over.

“Hello, prince. My name is Harry,” the one with the green eyes tells Liam when he’s reached them. He’s still smiling at him.

“Hi – uhm – it’s – it’s nice to meet you,” Liam murmurs because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want to practice with Louis? He’s getting a bit grumpy waiting for his turn,” Harry teases the shorter boy as he grins at him. Louis doesn’t return it. Instead, he’s trying to kill Liam with just his eyes.

“I’m not going to practice with _him_ ,” Louis spits out. There’s so much venom in the last word that Liam can taste the bitterness in his own mouth. “He’s just going to try to kill me. Did you conveniently forget who his father is?”

“Why would I kill you?” Liam fires back. He glares back at Louis but of course the other boy isn’t fazed. He just lifts his eyebrow at Liam’s protest.

“Because you and your father like killing people for some reason,” Louis replies.

“I’ve never killed a person,” Liam protests. He’s shouting now and his hands are balled into fists.

“But you will. With a father like yours, how can you be any different?” Louis sneers at Liam.

“Louis, you don’t know if he’s like his father,” Harry admonishes Louis. He’s situated himself between Louis and Liam so he can prevent them from attacking each other if necessary. With wouldn’t be a far stretch because Liam wants to hit him so bad right now. The prince usually isn’t such an aggressive person but Louis just gets under his skin.

“I _do_ know,” Louis barks at Harry. He takes a step closer towards Liam, as if he’s daring him to attack him and prove him right. “Sickness breeds sickness.”

“Alright, enough,” Zayn suddenly yells, just when Liam is about to launch at Louis, who just called his father a sickness. All heads turn towards the rebel leader’s son. “Seeing as I’m the best swordsman out of us three, I will practice with Liam. He won’t be able to kill me if he tries to.”

Shame settles in Liam’s stomach as he realizes he almost lost it in front of Zayn. He almost attacked his friend and proved to him that he’s indeed not to be trusted. Liam wants Zayn to think he can.

“And then he can kill you and claim it was an accident?”

“Louis, he would have to be very skilled to be able to kill me, and very stupid.” Now Zayn turns his head towards Liam, who can’t help but feel a little flustered under the beautiful boy’s gaze. “You aren’t stupid, are you, Liam?”

“No,” Liam mummers with an hoarse voice. He quickly clears his throat and repeats what he just said. “Harry and Louis would kill me and I’d rather stay alive.”

“You see, no need to worry,” Zayn tells his friend. “Now Louis, go practice with Harry.”

Louis does what he’s told. He and Harry walk until they’re standing a few paces away from Zayn and Liam and start practicing.

Now that his friends attentions are elsewhere, Zayn turns to Liam and hands him his spare sword. Liam and Zayn’s hands touch again when Liam takes it from him and just like last time, a shot of electricity shots up Liam’s arm. A fleeting look on Zayn’s face tells Liam that the other boy felt it too.

“You did learn how to swordfight, right?” Zayn asks as he grabs a hold of his own sword. He takes a few steps back and turns around so he’s facing Liam again. Liam can’t help but feel a jolt of excitement in his stomach at the trust Zayn must have in him to have his back to him, even if only for a few seconds.

“Yeah, I learned it from a very young age. My tutors always told me a king should be able to defend himself.” Liam regrets using the word king as soon as it’s left his mouth. The word is going to be a reminder for Zayn that he’s the enemy.

However, Zayn doesn’t react to the title. His face remains perfectly blank as he assumes position. “Good. In that case this won’t be too boring. Now, come on. Get ready.”

“Right.” Liam scrambles into position and points his sword at the other man. It’s been a while since he’s used a sword, he just hopes he’s not out of practice.

Zayn’s the first to move. He tries disarming Liam by slamming his sword against Liam’s from the side but Liam is quick to evade him. His and Zayn’s sword meet again as Liam tries to lift his sword over Zayn’s. Both boys try to push the other’s sword to the side but Liam and Zayn seem to be evenly matched.

Knowing this isn’t going anywhere, Liam and Zayn lower their swords. Zayn gives Liam a smile nod, conveying his respect for the prince’s swordsmanship. Suppressing a grin, Liam gives him a nod in return.

Zayn and Liam practice until both grow tired. The score of matches won is even. Zayn had won the last few of them and Liam can’t help but wonder it’s because the other boy’d gone easy on him during the first few.

“You’re very skilled with the sword, Liam,” Zayn tells the other boy. He’s sitting on the grass with his sword next to him and Liam sitting opposite. He rotates his shoulders every few moments to try to get the ache to leave his shoulders. The mask that’d been on his face has now all but vanished. There’s sincere respect in his eyes as he looks at Liam.

Liam can feel a buzz in his ribcage join the one he already feels throughout his whole body due to the work-out. He really tries to stop it but it’s in vain, a smile is growing on his lips. “You’re really great too.” He compliments Zayn in return.

“Thank you.” Liam’s heart stutters in his ribcage as Zayn gives him a small smile. It makes him want to grab a hold of Zayn and never let go.

It was nice, practicing with Zayn. It made Liam forget for a bit that he’s a prisoner and that it was Zayn’s father who took him. For a moment, it was just Liam and a very beautiful boy improving their skills with the sword.

But now everything comes back to him and his smile falters. He and Zayn aren’t friends. Their fathers are mortal enemies and both Zayn and Liam would walk through fire for theirs. Not to mention that Zayn doesn’t think Liam’s a good person and Liam thinks the same about Zayn’s father.

“I should probably go back to my tent,” Liam mumbles as he scrambles back to his feet. He dust off his trousers where they’re covered in dirt. He gives Zayn a tight smile. “I guess I see you when you bring me dinner.”

Zayn’s mask has slipped back on. Once again, Liam can’t tell what the other man is feeling. He can’t read any emotion in his autumn-leave colored eyes. “Yeah, see you then.” Zayn adverts his eyes and stands up as well. Liam takes this as his cue to leave.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst as Liam walks back to his tent. The sun is setting and most of the rebels are inside their tents. For which the prince is thankful because he doesn’t think he can handle rude comments being thrown at him at the moment.

Liam dives into his tent and as soon as he’s inside, he allows the tears to run down his cheeks. For some reason, being able to forget his problems momentarily has caused his despair to bubble to the surface. He’s been wanting to cry the past two days but he hadn’t allowed himself to do so. But now he can’t stop his emotions from getting the best of him.

While his body starts trembling the prince sits down on the ground and pulls his legs towards himself.  He buries his face into his knees and immediately, sobs starts wrecking his body. His cries of sorrow are muffled by the cotton of his trousers.

Why has this happened to him? Why did he have to go outside and get captured by his father’s worst enemies? If only he had stayed in the castle, none of this would have happened. He would be safe, getting ready for his next tutor session. Now instead he lives with people who hate him, who rather see him dead than alive, and they want him to help them kill his own father. They’re probably going to kill him if he refuses, despite their promises.

Only for a moment he’d been able to forget the mess he’s in. For a moment it’d seemed like he was just sparring with friends. And Zayn had looked so beautiful; the look of concentration on his face while he had blocked Liam’s blows, a sight that had made Liam’s breath catch. Liam has never seen anyone like Zayn. Why does he have to be the son of the man who’s going to kill him? If he’d been one of the servants, things would’ve been much easier. He would have invited him to his bed and let Zayn fuck him, not caring if his father found out.

The tears stop momentarily as the image of Zayn hovering over him pops up unbidden in his head. His eyes would shine with lust rather than anger. And he would open Liam up with his fingers, careful and so slow. A stab of arousal in his abandon lets the prince know his dick likes this idea very much.

But something like that would never happen because Zayn hates him. The realization makes Liam come crashing back to earth. Zayn would rather slit Liam’s throat then even entertaining the idea of sleeping with Liam. His cheeks damping as tears start flowing again.

Liam doesn’t know what to do. Is he going wait until the rebels decide to kill him or is he going to try to make a run for it? Maybe when they ride through a village and his father’s men happen to be there, he can run to one of them and beg them to take him back to the castle.

But wait, he doesn’t know who he can trust of his father’s men. He doesn’t want to ask help of someone who’s betraying his father’s trust.

A groan of frustration escapes Liam’s lips as he presses his face even closer against his trousers. There’s nothing to it, he has to wait for the inevitable. The rebels are going to kill him and his father and there’s nothing he can do.

Unless.

Liam slowly lifts his head up and narrows his eyes as he tries to think. Maybe he can pretend he’s on their side. He can pretend he decided to be reasonable and that he wants to get to the bottom of Malik’s accusations. Then he’ll pretend they’ve convinced him and that he wants to help them kill the king. But he won’t, of course. He’s going to find a way to save both him and his father.

The tears have stopped falling. Liam’s cheeks are still damp, however, so Liam rubs them with the sleeves of his shirt. He doesn’t want Zayn to see he’s cried when he comes to bring him his food. There are no traces that he’s been crying when Zayn comes into the tent some time later.

“Dad thought you would like seem cheese to go with the bread,” Zayn announces to Liam as he walks towards him with a small plate and a flask in his hands.

Liam flushes as the other boy sits down in front of him. He’d imagined being intimate with Zayn only a short while ago and now he’s going to be sitting right in front of him. It’s a bit embarrassing, to be honest.

“Here.” Zayn holds the plate out for Liam to take. When their fingers touch this time, Liam’s prepared for his body’s reaction. But the shot of electricity doesn’t come. Instead, the tops of his fingers just tingle.

But then Liam’s and Zayn’s eyes lock, kick starting a buzz Liam can feel in his whole body. Zayn’s face is still really hard to read but his eyes seem softer. There’s a warmth in them he hasn’t seen before. What has he done for Zayn to warm up to him a little, Liam wonders.

“Thank you.” Liam voice is slightly hoarse. He hopes Zayn is unable to hear it. He pulls the plate to his chest and he’s relieved to see he’s not eating porridge this time.  He takes the bread with cheese in one hand and takes a bit, chews it, before swallowing it down. All the while, Zayn watches him.

“Dad wants me to stay until you’re finished,” Zayn answers without Liam having to ask the question. “I don’t know why but I don’t mind too much.”

Liam has to suppress a smile at the confession.  Only this morning Zayn couldn’t get out of the tent soon enough after Liam has almost made him cry and now he doesn’t mind his father sending him into Liam’s tent to feed him.

“Why?” Liam asks because he wants to know why Zayn is suddenly so forgiving.

“Because I want to get to know you,” Zayn explains. He crosses his legs and puts one of his elbows on one of his knees. There’s sincerity in his eyes as he observes Liam taking another bite out of the bread.

“I thought you already knew me.” Liam tries to not let the bitterness be audible in his voice but the guilty look on Zayn’s face shows him he hasn’t been too successful.

“My father told me I shouldn’t judge so easily and he’s right. I’m so angry at your dad that I just assume you’re the same. That’s unfair of me.” Liam searches Zayn’s face for a lie but he can’t find any. He seems to be telling the truth. Zayn lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his raven-colored 

locks. “I need to be honest with you, though. I still believe you’re not going to help us, you’re probably even going to try to sabotage us but I really want to be wrong. So, I want to get to know you. I want to make sure if you’re like your father or if you’re different.”

Liam doesn’t really know what to think of this confession. On the one hand it’s an apology but it’s an accusation at the same time. So, instead of a reaction, he follows it up with a confession of his own. Or rather, a lie.

“I want to find something out as well.” Zayn looks at Liam with confusion scrunching up his forehead. Liam’s hand itch with the desire to smooth out the wrinkles. He quickly looks down at his bread before he does something stupid. “I want to know if it’s really my father who killed your mother. You say he’s a monster, but that’s just not how I know my dad is like. He loves his country, his people. He would never do anything to harm it. Maybe it was some look-a-like who pretended to be my father.”

Liam knows it sounds ridiculous but that has to be the explanation. It’s the only way both Liam and Zayn can be right.

Zayn doesn’t snap at Liam, like the prince expects him to. Instead, he just shakes his head and looks at Liam with regretful eyes. “I wish that were true. It would make things so much easier.”

“It _has_ to be true. It’s the only explanation.”

“Just eat the bread.”

Liam wants to snap at Zayn but he doesn’t. Instead, he does what he’s told.

“So, I can tell my father you’ve decided you want to find out the truth?” Zayn’s eyes narrow suddenly. “You’re not just saying that so we won’t tie your hands together again, right?”

“No, I really want to know the truth,” Liam lies. He already knows the truth. His father’s men are corrupt and one of them is pretending to be the king. After he’s saved his father, his going to tell him what the army is doing in his name. “I want to know if the king’s men are really operating on his orders.”

Zayn doesn’t look entirely convinced but he doesn’t say anything. He just hands Liam the flask with water. The other boy takes a gulp out of it and hands it back to Zayn.

They don’t talk as Liam finishes his dinner. When he’s eaten the entire bread, Zayn gets back to his feet again. “I’ll tell my dad about your change of heart.”

“Thank you.” Liam gives Zayn a weak smile, which the darker boy doesn’t return.

Zayn just walks away and out of the tent.                                                                                                                     

Liam drifts off to sleep quicker than usual. It really helps, not having your hands tied together. He sleep relatively peaceful that night.


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Liam rides next to Malik and Zayn again. The leader hasn’t said anything yet about Liam’s change of heart. Liam would’ve thought Zayn hadn’t told him after all, if it wasn’t for Malik’s eyes drifting in the prince’s direction more than usual.

It’s only when they’ve been sitting on their horses for hours that Malik addresses Liam. His eyes remain on the road ahead as he says, “My son told me yesterday that you’re willing to see the horrors your father brings to his lands.”

“Most of all, I want to find out if it’s really him who’s behind all the bad things that are happening in the kingdom,” Liam clarifies.

“How do you want to do that?” Malik asks.

“I don’t know,” Liam admits. He hasn’t though that far ahead. “Maybe if we come across my father’s men, I can ask them personally.” As soon as he’d made the suggestion, he realizes that wouldn’t be the best way to go about finding out the truth. If the men really _are_ corrupt, they’re going to just lie to his face and tell him they’re indeed just following the king’s orders.

“I’m afraid that’s asking too much of our trust. Who’s to say you won’t double-cross us and ask them for help,” Malik tells Liam. He looks at his captive with a calculating gaze before he looks in front of him again. “I’m afraid you have to find another way.”

“Maybe someone of your men can ask the king’s men for prove of a kingly-order.” Every order has to be written down on a piece of parchment and signed by the king. The rule had been implemented to stop corruption in the army. If his father’s men really fill their own pockets, it would mean the law doesn’t work.

“Signatures can be forged.”

Liam is surprised at the dismissal of his idea. Why isn’t Malik going along with it? A signed kingly-order would prove it’s his dad behind his men misbehaving. Even if it was forged, it would prove his point and get Liam on his side.

“The only other thing I can think of is hoping we come across my father. If I see my own father do terrible things, I’ll have to believe you.”

“I’m afraid that is indeed the only way.” Liam thinks he hears pity in Malik’s voice but he must be mistaken. Why would he feel sorry for him? “I do understand why you can’t believe me on my word. It’s clear you love your father very much.”

“Of course I do.” Liam bites his lower lip and furrows his eyebrows. “He’s my dad.”

“He really doesn’t deserve such a loyal son,” Malik tells Liam. The younger man can feel anger flare up but he ignores it. Now that he’s made a plan, he’s got to stick to it. He can’t yell if he wants to succeed.

Malik is done talking to Liam. He turns to his son and starts discussing the place they’re going to spend the night. It seems he values Zayn’s opinion on the subject.

“You ma’ tha right choice, ya know,” George tells Liam, his voice soft enough so only their ears can hear. “Very clever of ya to wantin’ to make up ya mind on ya own.”

“Thank you,” Liam replies, even though he isn’t really doing this for his jailor’s approval.

“What made ya change ya mind?”

Damn George and his curiosity. Now Liam has to come up with a convincing lie. He doesn’t know if he’s able to do it, he’s always told the truth in the past.

“Zayn and I talked. He seemed really upset about his mother and I felt really sorry for him.” Which is the truth. Liam _had_ felt sorry for Zayn but it’s not the reason why he wants to find out the truth about his father. “It was then that I decided that I wanted to find out the truth.” Liam really hopes he’s sold the lie convincingly enough. He can’t tell by George’s facial expression because Liam has his back to him.

“Seein’ Zayn distraught can melt the coldest of hearts.”

George’s reply is quite poetic and rings with truth. Seeing Zayn distraught is really an awful sight and would indeed make even the coldest person feel sorry for him. It would probably end any war.

The remainder of the journey, only Malik and his son talk. Both George and Liam have nothing to say as they ride on horseback through forests and fields.

Everywhere they go, they’re greeted by people who seem happy to see them. This surprises Liam because why aren’t the people afraid of Malik and his men? Aren’t they supposed to be terrorizing the kingdom?

The villagers and the farmers don’t seem to agree. They don’t flee away when they see the small army coming. Instead, they run towards them and greet them with excited and warm voices as well as offering them food and beer. Malik almost always declines and Liam wanders if it’s because he knows how bad this year has been.

All of it makes Liam think. Could it be that his father has been mistaken when judging Malik’s character? Or maybe the king’s men needed a scapegoat to account for money that has gone missing and his father had believed their lies?

But even that Liam can’t fathom. His father’s men have always been so nice to him. Have always seemed loyal to the king and dedicated to making the kingdom a better place. He can’t believe they would such awful things they’re accused of.

The problem is, Liam doesn’t know what to believe any more. The guards being nice, his father being a noble king, the rebels not killing him and just wanting him on their side. All of it can be a lie. He just _doesn’t know_. It’s such a mess and it’s giving Liam vertigo.

And then there’s Zayn. Someone he wants to like him for some reason. The beautiful boy who he hates to see cry. The boy he can’t help but feel drawn to even though Zayn hates his gut. Maybe he really does want to find out the truth. For Zayn’s sake.

When the sun only has a short journey left before he’s going to sink below the horizon, Malik announces they’re going to make camp at the edge of a village. If his men are surprised about the unusual location – the past few days they spend the nights in the forest – they don’t let it show. They just grumble their okays and start stirring their horses towards the village.

Liam helps George with getting the tent up without him having to ask him. George looks at him confused for a few moments but doesn’t say anything as the younger man starts attaching the tent to the ground.

After they’re finished with the tents, they part ways as usual. Liam decides to take a stroll through the camp. Hopefully it’ll be more pleasant this time around now that he’s sort of joined the rebels.

As it turns out, nothing has changed since yesterday. They still look at him like they want to murder him in his sleep when he walks past their tents. Don’t they believe Liam really is on their side?

He must have said it out loud because someone answers the question he wasn’t supposed to ask. “They don’t know. The boss hasn’t told them yet.”

Liam’s head shoots to his left. Harry is standing a few paces away, a friendly smile on his face. Liam feels himself being pulled into the other lad’s direction, his friendliness a welcome relieve in the hostile environment.

When Liam is standing right in front of him, he continues. “He’s going to tell ‘em during the bonfire night.”

“Bonfire night?” Liam asks, forehead creased.

“Yeah, we do it every few nights. Unwind a bit. Drink beers, have a laugh. It helps keep up moral.” Harry explains. He scrounges up his eyebrows. “You’re coming, right?”

“I don’t really think your friends want me there,” Liam mutters. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the ground, dejected.

“Nonsense. Sure, Louis’s being a bit harsh on you but I bet if he gets to know you, he’ll like you.”

Liam wants to ask about Zayn, wants to know if he’s right in assuming the dark-haired boy doesn’t want him there as well. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t think he wants to really know how much Zayn hates him. So, instead he says, “How do you know he’ll like me? You don’t know me. I may be as bad as Louis thinks I am.”

“No, I don’t buy that for a second.” Harry looks incredulously at him. His brows are furrowed and he’s pulled his lips into a pout. “I know people and you are a good person. You’re not like your father and I knew that the moment I met you.”

Liam is too tired to defend his father. Besides, Harry is the only friendly face in this horrid place and Liam isn’t willing to make an enemy out of him.

“Come on, say you’ll come.” The pout becomes even more pronounced and now Harry is fluttering his eyelashes as well. He looks really pretty and adorable like this so Liam can’t deny him. He tells Harry he’ll come. His whole face lights up at the white flag.

“Great, you won’t regret it.”

And regretting is what he does as soon as he’s walks towards the circle of men sitting beside the fire later that night. All eyes are on him as he tries to find somewhere he can sit on the logs. If looks could kill, Liam would’ve died a thousand times over.

Suddenly he sees Harry sitting with Zayn, Niall and Louis and he’s waving at Liam. Louis, like the rest of the men is trying to kill him with his eyes but he seems to be the only hostile one. Niall doesn’t look happy either but he looks disgruntled rather than angry. Zayn is looking blankly at the fire.

Knowing his best chances are with Harry, Liam walks towards the four friends. As soon as Liam is within earshot Harry calls out, ”I’m really happy you decided to come.”

“Well, he’s not sitting next to me,” Louis announces, a scowl on his face. Liam wonders if he has it permanently edged to his face or if he pulls it out just for Liam. “Don’t want to get stabbed in my side.”

“I don’t even have weapons on me,” Liam protests even though he knows it’s futile. He walks towards the other side of the bench and Zayn and Niall move over so Liam can sit between them.

“So, you’re stupid as well? How do you plan on eating your boar without a knife,” Louis sneers. Liam almost loses his footing in surprise were he’s trying to climb over the log, only able to keep from falling on Zayn by grabbing a hold of Harry. He carefully lifts his other leg over the log and sits down before answering. Is acutely aware how close he and Zayn are sitting but he does he best to ignore it.

“I didn’t know we were eating boar?” Liam’s diet has been void of meat ever since his capture. He’d assumed the rebels didn’t eat it for some reason – at first he thought it’d been because they ate men flesh and weren’t interested in the meat of animals.

“We eat meat during Bonfire night. It’s the only night that we do. It helps the men having a good time,” Harry explains. “You can borrow my knife, if you like.”

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you,” Liam replies. He gives Harry a smile and gets one in return.

Malik chooses that moment to call for attention from his men. All he has to do is stand up, cup with beer in his hand, and all fall silent. Liam hopes he’ll be able to do the same when he becomes king.

“Men, I have some good news to share with you.”

Cheers erupt from the gathered men even though they don’t know the good news yet. Maybe they haven’t had any good news in a while so the announcement alone serves to lift their spirits.

“Four days ago we toke a very valuable prisoner with us. Some of you didn’t agree with that decision because you thought we couldn’t get the tyrant’s son to see reason. Yesterday this was proven to be untrue.” There are mumbles coming from the men in the circle but none of them interrupt their leader.

“The prince has told me he wants to find out the truth. He wants to know if it’s indeed his father who’s crippling the kingdom. When he finally sees the truth, he may be able to kill the king without too many bloodshed.”

“I though we’re going to attack the castle,” someone suddenly shouts. It’s a sturdy man with wild red hair and even wilder blue eyes. “All of the people are willing to fight for their freedom and you’re just going to deny them that?”

“Tristan, I understand your thirst for revenge. I’ve felt it myself. But it’s better if justice can be served without more innocent men dying. If we have the prince on our side, he can kill the king on his own.”

“And then he’s going to usurp the throne for his own and become just as terrible as his father.”

“I won’t let him get rid of a tyrant if I don’t think he can be trusted,” Malik assures the redheaded man. There’s anger visible in the brownness of his eyes, as the firelight makes them glow.

Malik’s eyes leave Tristan’s face and starts roaming around the circle. With a clenched jaw, he looks his men in the eye one by one. None of them dare speak under his penetrating gaze. When his eyes meet Liam’s they remain harsh and the prince can feel an icy chill run down his spine. Maybe the stories his father told him about Malik _are_ true? Liam would have believed so only a day ago but right now, he’s not so sure. There’s anger in the brown eyes but no thirst for blood. They’re different from Tristan’s, who Malik accused of wanting bloodshed. Malik’s stare is less wild.

Could it be that Liam finally is starting to be able to read people?

“Is there anyone else who doesn’t trust me?” Malik thunders. His whole body seems to radiate anger as he looks at his men with a challenging stare. Standing with his legs wide, he’s an intimidating presence. None of the men say a word.

“I understand all of you want your revenge. You’ve been humiliated and aggrieved by the kings men and you want them to pay. _I_ want them to pay too. But we can do that without our blood shed. When I’m king, I will see to it that all of you see justice. I will personally insure that every single one of the king’s men will suffer for what they did.”

It shouldn’t surprise Liam that apparently even if he helps the rebels, Malik still wants to become king. He probably hadn’t even considered the notion of letting the prince ascent the throne even after he’s killed his own father. The thought leaves a bitter taste in Liam’s mouth.

But it does surprise him even though he never told Liam he would get the crown in exchange for his help. He’d though Malik would give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him to prove himself as king. Wouldn’t that be the least he could do for Liam after he would sacrifice so much? But apparently Malik isn’t planning on doing so. It’s a good thing Liam’s planning on thwarting them.

“I’m glad to see the rest of you still have faith in me,” Malik announces. His eyes soften and a small smile finds its way on his lips. “Now, let the celebrations begin.”

The last part is met with cheers from the group. With arms in the air and with elated looks on their faces they chant their leaders name. He replies to the voicing of their devotion by grinning at them and giving them a small nod of his head.

As soon as Malik sits down again, the crowd falls apart and they start to talk amongst each other. The beer is poured into wooden cups and passed around. The meat is cut and put on iron plates as songs break out.

“Do you want some boar?” Harry asks as a plate is pressed into his hands. A friendly smile is pressed unto his lips as he holds up the delicious smelling meat. Liam’s mouth instantly waters at the smell. Suddenly he realizes just how much he’s missed eating decent food.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he takes the plate from Harry. The heat of the cooked meat warms up his cold hands as well as his lap as he puts the plate down on his legs. Why didn’t Zayn and his friends sit down closer to the fire?

Harry passes Liam a cup with beer as well but this time the prince passes it along to Zayn. He doesn’t want to drink just yet. Besides, it’s a chance for him to do something nice for the beautiful boy. A tight smile is all he gets but he takes it eagerly. He’s thankful for any acknowledgment from Zayn he can get.

“So, not that I’m not happy you joined us but I was wondering what changed your mind?” Harry asks as he takes a cup of beer from the man sitting next to him and starts sipping the beverage.

“Yeah, what _did_ change your mind?” Louis sneers. He’s leaning forwards so he can look passed Zayn at Liam with narrowed eyes. It’s clear the other boy doesn’t believe he has had a change of heart. It sets Liam’s senses on high alert. He’s going to have to be careful when he’s around Louis. He can’t find out he’s on to something.

Now Liam has to come up with another lie. He has a feeling Zayn is not going to appreciate it if he told them he felt sorry for him. He’s going to tell the same lie he told Zayn before.

“The villagers seem to love Malik. They don’t seem afraid of him, which doesn’t add up if the stories my father told me about him. So I wondered if there was some truth to your accusations. Maybe he’s guilty, maybe he’s innocent and there’s something else going on. I don’t know, but I want to find out.”

All through the explanation, Liam’s eyes remained locked with Louis. He hoped that way the lie would be more convincing. It appears so, because even though there’s still doubt in his eyes the scowl on his face has all but disappeared.

“Do you have an idea how you’re going to do that?” Zayn asks. Liam turns his eyes to the leader’s son, who’s looking at him with a stare that makes Liam flush.

“I-uhm- I,” Liam stutters. He seems to have lost his ability to speak properly, suddenly. It makes his face turn a even brighter red. He just hopes nobody can see now that the darkness has set in. “I –ah – I talked with – with –your father about that.”

“And?” Zayn asks. He cuts off a piece of meat and puts it in his mouth as he waits for Liam’s reply.

“We- uh – we came to the conclusion that – uhm – the only way it can be proofed it’s my father is if I catch him in the act,” Liam stammers out his reply. He wants to wipe his sweaty hands on his breeches really badly but he doesn’t want them to discover how nervous he is. He’s just going to have to suffer having wet hands.

“So, the king’s men saying it’s your father isn’t good enough for you?” Louis asks. The corners of his pink mouth are pulled back in disdain.

“I wouldn’t proof anything. They could lie. Malik agrees,” Liam defends himself.

“That sounds like my father,” Zayn confirms. A soft laugh escapes the dark-haired boy. His eyes wanders to where the fire is burning for a few moments. The glow reflects in his eyes and for a minute Liam has difficulty breathing. “He always wants people to come to a conclusion themselves even when nudging them in the right direction would be make things much easier.”

He turns his head to Liam and looks him straight in eyes. It is as if he’s caught the fire in his hazel irises. “I hope you’ve realized we aren’t just making up stories. We aren’t just talking out of our arses.” Liam cringes at the crude choice of words even though he should’ve gotten used to it by now.

“Like I said, I do believe your stories are based on truth. I just can’t believe it’s my father you’re talking about.”

Only now, does Liam realizes this isn’t as much of a lie as he’s telling himself. Malik’s stories must be based on something if he’s willing to let Liam get to the bottom of the king’s men misbehavior. He doesn’t want to stir Liam in the right direction and let him make mistakes that will lead him to the conclusion that will benefit the rebels the most. He wants to let Liam get to the conclusion on his own by witnessing the only prove he can’t deny.

“I believe you,” Harry announces. Liam turns around and gives his only friend here a smile. He has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that makes his lips pull tighter but Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He just smiles back. “I believe Liam over here has changed.” Harry puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder and gives his friends a pointed look. “I really think you guys are being too harsh on him.”

“Of course you do, Hazza. You always trust people to easily,” Louis says. His eyes are soft and there’s a small smile on his lips.

“I like to think I just give people the benefit of the doubt.” Harry’s voice is tense. He seems to be ruffled by Louis’s accusation. “You condemn people too easily.”

“Only if I have the right to do so.” Louis replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He takes a swig of his cup with beer, drinking the last bit of the yellow liquid. “Shit, I need to get some more beer.”

Louis stands up. “Do you guys want some more beer?”

“I want some. I’ll come with,” Niall mutters, getting off of the log as well.

Niall is the only when who wants more beer, so he and Louis leave together. Zayn scoots a little bit farther away from Liam but still close enough for the prince to brush up against him if he moves his leg just a little.

While Liam eats his meat, Harry talks his ear off. He tells Liam about his parents and older sister who live at the edge of the kingdom. They know he joined the rebels and they’re proud of him. Niall and Louis don’t return.

“You know, I used to have a younger brother,” Harry tells Liam after he’s come back to get some beer. His hands are freezing cold after being deprived from the warmth of the fire the short while it took him to get his drink. He holds out his hand a little closer to the fire in the hope it’ll warm them up.

“What happened?” Liam asks, even though he isn’t too sure he wants to know the answer to the question. It can only be a sad story.

“He died a year ago. He was only twelve.” The stars are reflected in Harry’s green eyes as they shine with tears. His plump lower lip is pulled into his mouth for him to nibble on. He casts his eyes down and fixes them on the ground in front of their feet. “Your father’s men killed him. They set their hounds on him and they laughed. They laughed and there wasn’t anything I could do. One of them had a knife to my throat.” Tears start falling down Harry’s cheeks.

The mental image that Harry’s story conjures makes Liam want to throw up. He tries to fight it but his mind is filled with the young boy running for his life, being chased by dogs trained for the hunt. The wind makes it easy for Liam to imagine the cries of the boy as the dogs finally catch up with him. If only imagining something this horrible can get such a reaction from Liam, he can’t comprehend what it must’ve been like for Harry to witness it.

“That’s horrible.” Liam diverts his gaze to his hands because he doesn’t dare to look at Harry because it were _his_ father’s men who did this to Harry. “I’m so sorry.”

All the men walking and sitting around the camp fire must have stories similar to Harry’s. All of them probably have had the same kind of loses the boy next to him has suffered. Liam knew that, of course he knew but knowing and realizing are two entirely different things.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you didn’t know about the things you’re father is doing,” Harry tells Liam in a soft voice. Harry’s hand suddenly appears in his field of vision. He lays it down on Liam hands and it gives Liam the courage to look Harry in the eyes. There’s a watery smile on his face, beneath his tearstained cheeks. “The night we took you, I saw in your eyes you weren’t lying. You believed your father was innocent and you still do. You can’t believe he’s capable of terrible things but I know you’ll do the right thing if you see he is.”

The horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach rears its ugly head again. He can feel the meat wanting to make its way back up but Liam pushes it down. Just like he ignores the way he feels his heart shrink.

Zayn chooses that moment to throw an arm around Liam. It startles the prince and he almost jumps up off of the log. The dark-haired boy has been sitting quietly next to him, nursing many cups of beer he’s probably stopped counting a while ago.

“Why’d you have to be so sexy,” Zayn slurs as he pulls himself closer to Liam. The young prince can feel where he presses his body up against him and every inch of his side tingles with the sensation. His skin seems to burn where Zayn has wrapped his arm around his neck and then he’s nuzzling Liam’s neck. Fuck. Liam can feel shivers run up and down his spine before gathering in his groin. Much to his mortification, he can feel his dick fatten up in his breeches.

“I’m supposed to hate you but all I want to do is fuck you,” Zayn murmurs into his neck. Liam can hear Harry snicker which must mean he’s stopped crying. At least Zayn harassing Liam is good for something else beside turning Liam on.

Liam lets out a squeak when Zayn suddenly decides to nibble on his neck, right where his birthmark is. “I bet you look really pretty when you come on my cock.” Liam’s dick twitches at Zayn’s words. He has no doubt Zayn would be able to make him come by just fucking him. If he isn’t careful, Zayn might even be able to make him cream himself with only his words.

“Zayn,” Liam murmurs in a hoarse voice and he turns his head to tell the other boy off. But Zayn’s face is much closer then he’d anticipated and before he knows what’s happening, Zayn’s lips are on his.

Zayn’s lips are thin and soft. They move against Liam’s lip in a hungry pace, making it impossible for Liam to think. All he can do is returning the kiss and open his mouth when Zayn tries to pry it open with his tongue. Zayn’s touch is burning his skin where he has a hand on the side of his face and on the bottom of his spine. The darker boy pulls him even closer and Liam lets him.

All of a sudden, Harry’s voice cuts through the fog in Liam’s head. “Guys, that’s enough. People are starting to stare.”

Liam pulls back from Zayn immediately. His cheeks are red in embarrassment as his eyes flit over the few people who are staring at him and Zayn. Most of them look shocked but some of them look amused.

“You guys got a bit too carried away there,” Harry snickers.

There’s rustling to Liam’s right and when he turns his head, he sees Zayn has gotten off the log. He’s almost tripping over his own feet as he walks away. Liam can’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away. Zayn’s probably just as embarrassed about the kiss as Liam. The thought ties knots in the prince’s stomach.

“He’s probably just going to sleep it off,” Harry assures Liam. “You’ll probably find him sleeping beneath a tree in a few moments.”


	5. Chapter 5

Liam doesn’t expect Zayn to bring him his breakfast the next morning after they – after they kissed.  But there’s no mistaken the black hair and tan skin as Zayn enters the tent head first. Liam’s heart begins to beat painfully in his chest as the rest of Zayn’s body follows. Suddenly his hands are sweaty and his cheeks feel flushed.

The problem is that Liam doesn’t know how to act around Zayn now. He knows things are going to be awkward between him and the other boy and he hates it. Zayn finally started to trust Liam and get comfortable around him but now everything is screwed up. He probably feels embarrassed and it wouldn’t surprise him if he couldn’t even look Liam in the eyes. His father probably forced him to bring Liam the food. Zayn has most likely built the wall back up that Liam to painstakingly tore down brick by brick. He’s going to look at Liam like they’re strangers again. Liam isn’t sure if he can handle the pain because Zayn has grown really important to him.

Zayn does indeed not look Liam in the eyes as he kneels down and hands him his plate of food. He just mutters, “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Liam says, his voice hoarse. His throat feels far too dry, so he takes a gulp out of the mug with water Zayn had handed him as well. “Did you sleep well?” Damn it if Liam won’t try to have a normal conversation with Zayn. Maybe if Liam doesn’t bring up the kiss and just acts normal, things will be okay with Zayn and Liam.

“Good, I guess. Bit of a hangover, now,” Zayn replies. The darker boy eyes hover on Liam’s face for a few seconds – a tight smile forming on the lips under them – before flitting away again.

“That’s what you get from drinking so much,” Liam jokes. Even though he’s never been drunk himself, he knows the effect it has the next morning because his father loved organizing feasts at the castle. “I bet the others are probably not much better.”

“If you mean Harry, Louis and Niall, you’re right. Except for Harry. He’s drunk as much as you.”  Liam knows because he sat next to Harry the whole night but he doesn’t remind Zayn because that could lead to somewhere he better not go.

Zayn takes a deep breath and he furrows his eyebrows. His lower lip blossom red as he nibbles on it with his white teeth. Liam can feel a warmth bloom in his chest as Zayn’s eyes find Liam’s again. “I’m sorry I kissed you,” he blurts out.

“What?” is all Liam is able to stammer. He’s flabbergasted. Why would Zayn bring up the kiss? Isn’t it the whole reason why Zayn couldn’t look him in the eyes?

“Let’s forget it ever happened, alright?” Zayn proposes as he runs a hand through his hair. It makes it look even more untamed that it already did. He’s looking at Liam with pleading eyes.

“Why?” Liam asks. Even though Liam thinks forgetting is for the best as well, he still wants to know why Zayn shares his opinion.

“Because I forced myself on you. It’s embarrassing and really inappropriate,” Zayn admits. He shakes his head as he looks disbelievingly at Liam. “You’re our prisoner. It shouldn’t do something like that to you.”

So, it’s not because he doesn’t have feelings for Liam. It’s only because he thinks his attraction is not returned. Suddenly, Liam isn’t too sure he wants to forget the kiss.

Hunger forgotten, Liam puts his plate of food and his cup with water down on the ground next to him and leans a little bit closer into Zayn’s personal space. A blush creeps up Zayn’s neck and unto his cheeks and the sight makes Liam smile. “What if I told you, you didn’t force me. I liked it. I kissed you back, remember.”

“It still wouldn’t make a difference,” Zayn denies. He shakes his head again and rises to his feet. Liam recoils at the blatant rejection as if he’s slapped in the face. His chest hurts and it’s a bit hard to breath. “We shouldn’t have kissed. We’re enemies, Liam. We hate each other.”

“ _I_ don’t hate you,” Liam tells Zayn in a small voice. Zayn turns his head and body away at the admission. He now has his back to Liam, who’s nailed to the ground where he’s sitting.

“Tough luck, because I do. I hate you and all you stand for!” Zayn spits out, hitting Liam square in the chest with his angery words.

“And what’s that, them. What do I stand for?!” Liam asks Zayn with a raised voice. A fire in his chest licks away at the iciness surrounding his heart.

Zayn turns around so fast that he almost loses his footing. Hot embers of anger shine in his hazel irises. He has his jaw clinched and his hands balled into fists.

“You won’t admit your father can do any bad. People tell you all the awful things your father did and you still believe he’s innocent!” Zayn yells at Liam. The prince looks at him with narrowed eyes and balled fists of his own. It makes Zayn’s rage grow even further. “Don’t even think for a second I didn’t see through your lie. You don’t want to find out the truth about your father. You just want to prove us wrong.”

“And what’s so wrong with that!” Liam shouts as he jumps to his feet. He takes a step closer to Zayn and glares at him. How dare Zayn pretend like he wouldn’t do the same if it was his father. “We’ve already been over this. He’s my father, of course I think he’s innocent. I know him, he would never do any of those things.”

“Why don’t you just stop it. Just stop it. Stop pretending like I wasn’t there. I saw it with my own eyes how your father tried to rape my mother.” Tears have started flowing down Zayn’s cheeks. He takes a step closer as well and Liam can feel the warmth of his body wash over him. For a moment, the anger because nothing more than a simmer. Even though Liam is mad at Zayn, he still hates to see him cry. “I know what your father looks like.” Zayn’s no longer yelling at Liam. His voice is nothing more than a soft plead. “I know the king’s face. It was him. Why won’t you believe me?”

Liam knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help himself. He has to hold Zayn. The other boy tries to fight him when Liam puts his arms around him but only barely. After only a few seconds he stops struggling and just melts against Liam’s chest. “I do believe you. I believe you think you saw my father. Maybe he has some doppelganger who’s pretending to be him. I don’t know. I want to find out. I want to set things right. ” Which isn’t a lie. He does want to set things right. For Zayn. And the good of the country of course, but mainly for Zayn.

“My father was right. He doesn’t deserve a son as loyal as you,” Zayn mutters where he has his face pressed to Liam’s chest. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s just so frustrating that you don’t believe me. But I understand. Of course I do. Sorry for pretending I didn’t.”

“And I’m sorry about lying about why I changed my mind.” It feels good, being able to finally admit it but he’s not going to tell Zayn the real reason. Instead, he’s going to tell him the other lie. “I do want to find out if my father is innocent or not and I do hope he’s innocent, like you said. But I’m not doing it for myself. I’m doing it for you. I want justice for your mother’s murder.”

Liam can feel Zayn stiffen in his arms. His heart begins to beat rapidly because what if he crossed a invisible line? Whatever the reason, Liam still goes on because he needs to say this. “I care about you, Zayn. We may be enemies but I don’t  want us to be. I want to protect you from harm, not cause it.”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Zayn mutters with a hint of a smile as he pulls back from the embrace. He takes Liam’s hands in his and gazes fondly at the prince. Shivers run up Liam’s arms as Zayn starts to trace his hands with his thumbs. “I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of you. You’re my prisoner.” The word prisoner never sounded so good.

Liam’s breath hitches as Zayn gets on his knees and leans forward until their faces are only inches apart. His hands have found a home on Liam’s knee and his cheek. His whole body heats up at Zayn’s intense gaze. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Zayn murmurs before attaching their lips.

Zayn doesn’t taste as much like beer as he did yesterday. Liam wouldn’t know what he does taste like because all he can think about is Zayn is kissing him again. Only a few moments earlier he had pleaded Liam to forget their last one.

And this one is even better because it isn’t as sloppy and Zayn’s arm is suddenly around his waist and he’s pulling Liam unto his lap. Liam lets out a groan as he sits down. He can feel Zayn’s cock fill up where it’s pressed against his thigh. He wants to feel it against his own hardening length so bad, so he fidgets in Zayn’s lap until their dicks are lined-up.

“Fuck,” Liam curses as he starts to move against Zayn. The other boy lets out a groan of his own and starts meeting Liam’s trust with his own. Before Liam knows it, both of them are hard and rubbing frantically against each other.

Zayn’s hands are on Liam’s hips as he lets out moan after moan against his pink, spit-slicked lips. They’re no longer kissing, just breathing on each other’s mouths as they chase their pleasure.

“Fuck, Liam. Faster,” Zayn groans. He digs his fingers deeper into Liam’s tanned skin and the prince can’t do anything but comply. “Yes that’s it. God, you’re so good to me.”

Liam can feel his heartbeat exhilarate as the fire of arousal in his veins suddenly starts burning even brighter at Zayn’s words. The praise makes him move even faster because he’s so close to coming. So close.

“You like being good to me?” Zayn has pulled back a little and he’s grinning at Liam. His hazel eyes are dilated, his eyes devouring him like he’s food and Zayn hasn’t eaten in weeks. Liam tries to reconnect their lips but Zayn keeps pulling away. Instead, he starts to nibble on his neck as they continuing moving against each other. Zayn has slowed down the pace so Liam won’t come just yet.  “I asked you a question, Liam.”

“Yeah, fuck. I like being good to you,” Liam groans, not being able to stand the torture any longer. “I – fuck – it’s all I want.”

“Good. Fuck. That’s. Good. _So good_ ,” Zayn moans. He starts rubbing up against Liam in a quicker pace, much to Liam’s relieve. “I like that. You want to be good so bad, don’t you.”

“Yes. God. Zayn. Yes,” Liam moans loudly. He can feel his orgasm approaching. It won’t take much to send him over the edge.

“I bet you would let me fuck you if I asked,” Zayn whispers filthily into Liam’s jawline. It’s the final push that has Liam tumbling over the edge. His fingers dig into Zayn’s skin as his whole body goes rigid and he spills inside his breeches.

“Fuck,” Zayn curses and he starts rutting even quicker against Liam’s still pulsing dick. His hands have found their way to Liam’s small ass, squeezing the round flesh in time with his trusts.

Two breaths later, Zayn goes still as well and Liam feels his cock throb against his own as the other boy finds his release.

Zayn takes another two breaths before he’s carefully pushes Liam off of his lap. His chest is still going up and down rapidly, not having been able to catch his breath just yet. Liam falls down to the ground without protest, boneless from the amazing orgasm. It’s been a while since he’d come this hard.

In. Out. In. Out. Zayn’s heartbeat is slowing down. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he chuckles and he runs a hand through his hair. He’s looking at Liam through his eyelashes and with a pink hue to his cheeks. “Couldn’t really help it. Didn’t know you were such a good kisser.”

People had told Liam he was a good kisser but in the back of his mind he’d always thought they said that because he was the prince. He doesn’t have to fear for that with Zayn, he’s been nothing but honest with him the whole time.

“Thank you,” Liam mutters, his cheeks the color pink as well. He’s biting the inside of his cheek but his eyes are on Zayn. He seems unable to look away. Zayn’s always been beautiful, but he’s never look this good. Liam wonders it’s because he just made him come. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“Not bad uhm?” Zayn asks, one eyebrow raised. His lips pull back in a smirk and it sets off a storm in Liam’s chest. His heart feels a few inches too big. “Just not bad? If I remember correctly, I made you come in your breeches just by kissing you only a few moments ago.”  

Zayn’s words make Liam’s face flush all the way. The other boy had made him come much too soon. If only he had more stamina. He’d still be rutting up against Zayn, chasing his orgasm.

“Speaking of coming in your breeches, I should probably give you a clean pair. It’s going be one very unpleasant day for you if I don’t.” Zayn gets up. “You should probably finish your breakfast. I’ll be back in a few.”

After Zayn has left the tent, Liam picks the plate from the ground and starts eating again. While he chews on the bread and cheese, he lets his mind wander.

He can’t believe that only a few moments ago, he and Zayn had been yelling at each other and now they’re acting like their friends. All because they kissed and made each other come. If only all disputes could be solved this way.

Not that things between Zayn and Liam are resolved now. Liam is still Zayn’s prisoner and Zayn still wants to kill Liam’s father even now that they know their attraction is mutual. They’re still enemies and Liam knows all too well that eventually this will get in the way. The thought makes his stomach queasy.

Zayn returns after Liam has finished the bread and the cheese – the flask of water half empty. The dark-haired boy holds up brown-colored breeches as he walks towards Liam. “You’re lucky I have two extra pairs.”

“Thank you,” Liam mumbles as he takes the breeches from Zayn, his cheerful mood now slightly dampened.

“What’s the matter?” Zayn asks. He sits down across from Liam and looks at him with concern in his eyes. Only now Liam spots that Zayn’s already put on his new breeches.

“Nothing. I’m just not really looking forward to riding today.” Liam isn’t going to tell Zayn the real reason. He doesn’t want to bring down his mood as well.

“I can ask my dad if you can ride with me today,” Zayn proposes. He shuffling a little closer to Liam and looks at him with earnest eyes.

“You don’t have to do that,” Liam protests. Zayn really doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to spend time with Liam if he doesn’t want to only so Liam feels more comfortable – he would’ve never thought that would be important to Zayn. “I’m a prisoner, remember. You’re not supposed to make things easier for me.”

“Liam, you’re no longer our prisoner.” Zayn halts and quirks one eyebrow. “Well, at least not in the same way as before. You told us you’re going to help us. You’re allowed more freedom now. So, if I ask my father if you can ride with me, he’s probably going to say yes.”

Liam likes the idea of being allowed more freedom. Maybe he’ll be able to escape before they reach the stronghold after all. However, that idea is not as appeling as it used to be. He _does_ really want to find out what’s behind the stories about his father. If his father really is such a cruel person, he wants to know.

And he would also mean he had to leave the boy sitting in front of him behind. The boy who’s looking at him in a way that makes his stomach swoop and goose bumps to erupt all over his skin. He doesn’t know if he can. The idea of having to walk away and never see Zayn again makes it hard for Liam to breath. He doesn’t know when he started to get so attached to Zayn but now that he has, there’s no escaping it. And it scares Liam because he knows, he just _knows_ , that Zayn doesn’t feel the same way.

“I hope you’re right,” Liam says. A smile is making its presence known on Liam’s lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. It’ll be a chance for me to get to know you better. I’ve not been able to the past few days.” Zayn gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s ask my father.”

Liam takes Zayn’s hand, heart thudding in his chest, and gets to his feet. Zayn lets go of Liam’s hand as soon as he’s standing.

As they walk through the camp, Zayn first and Liam following very close behind, people are staring at them. Their prying eyes feel like an accusation. Like they know what Zayn and Liam did back in the tent. The thought of the rebels maybe knowing has Liam’s already flushed cheeks turn an even darker shade of red.

Malik doesn’t notice Zayn and Liam when they walk into his tent. He’s bend over a map with five men standing next to him. All six pairs of eyes remain fixed on the same spot as Zayn walks towards the table.

“Father, Is it okay if Liam and I ride together, today?” Zayn asks.

“Uhm, what?” Malik murmurs. He starts drawing a line on the map, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his teeth gnawing on his lip.

“Can Liam ride with me today?” Zayn asks again. Impatience has already started to seep into his voice. “Father, what are you doing? We’re supposed to leave in an hour.”

“We’re trying to,” Malik starts to explain but he’s interrupted by the man standing next to him.  

“Don’t say anything, boss,” the man tells the leader, accent heavy. He must come from the northern provinces. “We have a little cricket in our midst.” The man refers to an wide held believe that army strategy should not be discussed in the presence of crickets, in the fear they will pass the massage on to their fellow crickets and the enemy will overhear.

Liam could snap at the man – tell him that even _if_ he wanted to tell his father about the plan, he wouldn’t know how to as they have him under constant surveillance.

“Just answer my question and I’ll be out of your hair, dad,” Zayn tells his father.

“What was the question?” Malik asks for a second time. He’s looking at his son but it’s clear his thoughts are somewhere else.

Zayn repeats his request for the third time and this time Malik hears it. “Sure. Just tell George he doesn’t have to watch him today.”

The reply comes in the form of a nod but Malik doesn’t see it, his eyes back on the map. Zayn lets out a sigh before turning to face Liam. He smiles at the prince and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s find George.”

They don’t have to look long for him. They find him with his horse, trying to feed her apples. George seems happy when he hears he doesn’t have to look after Liam which Liam sort of understands. Taking care he doesn’t try to escape is probably not the most fun task to be assigned to.

Zayn helps him with his tent and Liam offers to do the same. But Zayn tells him Harry is already going to be helping him, so Liam just watches them from where he’s sitting in the grass. Niall, sits down next to him, much to Liam’s surprise but doesn’t say anything. Louis is still looking at him with disdain as he tries, in vain, to dismantle his tent on his own. When he finds himself entangled in the cloth, Niall comes to his rescue with a barking laugh.

After they’re done with their tents, Zayn and his friends walk to the horses. As the four boys find their steeds, Liam suddenly remembers he doesn’t have one himself. He’s going to have to ride with Zayn on his horse. Liam’s whole body thrums at the idea of having his arms around Zayn’s waist the whole day.

Zayn doesn’t seem faced by the idea because he just holds out his hand for Liam and doesn’t bet an eye. When he sees Liam hesitate, the corners of his mouth go upwards but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes a hold of Liam’s hand and hauls him unto the horse.

Liam’s arms find their way around Zayn’s very narrow waist. He can feel every muscle contract and expand as he moves with the horse and Liam has to take a few deep breaths because he’d forgotten to breath suddenly.

The horse starts to move as Zayn presses his heels into its sides. He stirs it towards the edge of the camp and his friends follow.

At first, the four friends ride side by side but before too long, they get separated by the mass of rebels . Liam can swear there are more men on horseback then there were yesterday.

When Liam asks Zayn about it, he replies, “Yeah, most of them are new. We’ve been recruiting. Yesterday, a whole bunch of people joined.”

“I didn’t know so many people were angry at us,” Liam muses as he takes in the army of men surrounding them.

“They’re not angry at you, just your father,” Zayn reminds Liam. He squeezes Liam’s hand but it does nothing for Liam because he knows Zayn’s lying. They _are_ angry at him too, just like Louis and just like Zayn used to be.

The rest of the first part of the journey, they start talking about more pleasant things. Zayn asks Liam about his childhood memories and Liam tells him about when he was six and tried to breed caterpillars. Liam tells Zayn about that one time when he went fishing in the castle moat because no one wanted to tell him there were no fish in the murky waters, about the cakes the cooks in the castle used to bake every New Sun to thank the sun for returning for another year. He tells Zayn about his first kiss, the first boy he slept with in hushed whispers. Zayn had shuddered against Liam’s chest when the other boy’s lips had brushed up against his ear.

Before they know it, they’re halfway through the journey. Soon, they’re going to be arriving at a small village that only consists out of farms. They front of the train of rebels is almost at the first farm.

Suddenly, Liam hears something rustling in the trees and he looks up just in time to see a man jump down. All around him, men fall from the trees and land smack in the middle of the rebels. One of them grabs a hold of Zayn horse’s reins before burying the sheath of his sword in the animals neck. The black horse neighs in pain, its eyes huge in panic and then it’s prancing, knocking both Liam and Zayn off of its back.

Zayn lands safely on Liam, but Liam himself is not so lucky. With a loud thump, the prince’s head connects with the hard ground, the shock sending his head reeling. His rib cage aches but he’s still able to breath, despite Zayn’s weight on his chest.

“Zayn, get off of me,” Liam pleads to the darker boy. He tries to move Zayn on his own but he’s too weak. The shock has taken a toll on his muscles. Which is a bad, bad thing because Zayn is 

exposed, laying on top of Liam.

“ _Do_ try to get away,” a vaguely familiar voice sneers, only cruelty audible in the way he pushes the words out of his mouth. “It’d be _so_ much more fun.”

“Zayn!” Liam repeats again and this time the other boy listens. He crawls off of Liam and gets to his feet with shaky legs. The soldier looks at him with cruel eyes as he stalks closer, sword in hand. Zayn is quick to draw his own weapon.

The whole world narrows down to Zayn and the soldier. Liam wouldn’t know what happened around him if you asked him. He doesn’t see the hundreds of rebels trying to fight for their lives or Malik desperately trying to find out where his son is. All he can see is the glint of the sword in the light of the descending sun and Zayn’s and the soldier’s narrowed eyes and hunched shoulders. Suddenly, Liam comes to the realization that he knows the soldier. He came to the castle often and Liam had always considered him a friend. A friend who’s really good with a sword. Liam can’t let Zayn do this alone, he has to help him but he doesn’t have a sword. Even though he had joined their ranks, the rebels hadn’t thought about giving him one. Maybe he can plead with the Sander instead. Maybe he’ll let Zayn live when his prince asks it of him.

“Soldier,” Liam calls out, but the soldier’s eyes never leave Zayn. He’s only a few paces away from the boy who’s become so important to Liam.

“I am your _prince_. I _command_ you to let him go.”

This does halt the soldier in his steps. His eyes fly in Liam’s direction and his eyes become wide with recognition. “My prince?” he exclaims in surprise. His voice has gone softer and this is how Liam remembers him.

The soldier lowers his sword . His eyes flit from Liam to Zayn and back again. “Your father is looking for you. He’s worried sick. Did you join the rebels?”

“No, they took me,” Liam begins to explain but Zayn interrupts him.

“Liam, stop trying to talk to him. Let me kill him,” Zayn hisses. Liam is shocked by the blood thirst he hears in Zayn’s voice. He looks at Zayn with wide eyes, who glares back at him. “Him and his men are trying to kill us. Look around you. There’s no use trying to reason with these _dogs_. Or are you trying to betray us? Is that what you’re trying to do.”

Liam tries to not let the guilt show on his face because this is not the way he’d wanted  to foal their plans. He just wants to stop them from killing his father, that’s all. He didn’t want the rebels to get killed.

“It is, isn’t it,” Zayn yells and Liam can see the hurt in his eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Liam tries to plea. “I’m trying to save your life. Maybe he’ll spare you if I ask him to. We’re friends, he’ll listen to me.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill him, my prince,” Sander tells Liam. His eyes harden again as they find their way back to Zayn’s face. “Orders from the king.”

“But Zayn is _innocent_. He hasn’t done _anything_ wrong. _None_ of them have.” Liam isn’t lying. Only now does he realize he really believes Zayn and the other rebels are not guilty of the crimes his father has accused them off. He has spent enough time with them to know they’re good at heart. But he hadn’t allowed himself to think that because it would mean that his father may not be innocent after all.

“I don’t question the king’s orders, I just do them.” Sander starts advancing towards Zayn again and suddenly he pounces. Zayn is unprepared, taken by surprise, and he barely blocks the soldier’s blow.

“Sander, please stop,” Liam pleads but it falls to deaf ears. Sander keeps attacking Zayn and Zayn keeps trying to disarm him. Liam knows Zayn will tire out eventually and Sander is going to use it to his advantage. Liam has to do something.

He starts scanning the ground, looking for a discarded weapon. He almost exclaims with joy when he finds one, hidden beneath a blanket of leaves. Scrambling over the leave covered forest floor, Liam dives for the weapon. His cold fingers envelopes the hilt as he pulls it from the foliage.

Zayn and Sander don’t notice him as he comes running back. Liam is glad because it means he can take Sander by surprise.

The sword whistles as it cuts through the air. It embeds itself in Sander’s upper arm and Sander screams out in agony. He immediately whirls around and attacks Liam with a look of pure rage on his face. “You filthy traitor. I’m going to kill you!”

But Liam knows Sander’s technic all too well. He knows his weak spots. Maybe he’ll be able to defeat his old friend on his own.

Sander must have come to that realization himself too because he does something he usually never does. He kicks Liam square in the stomach, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before the prince is able to get back up, Sander has started fighting Zayn again.

Zayn has already started to tire. The final blow is probably going to fall soon and Sander is going to cut Zayn down. Liam has to stop that from happening, with any means necessary. Zayn won’t die, not _today_.

This conviction propels Liam to his feet and he runs towards Sander with his sword held in front of him. But Sander has quick reflexes and he blocks Liam’s blow. Liam stumbles back and Sander uses the moment of weakness to cut Liam across his chest. A whit-hot pain singes down his chest were the metal has cut through his tunic and skin. He can feel wetness running down his stomach and chest as blood starts pouring out of the wound.

“Liam!” Zayn calls out. Liam sees a look of anxious on Zayn’s face before it disappears from sight  when a shadow falls over his beautiful features. His eyes shine with rage, making him look like an avenging angel.

Zayn jumps towards Sander with sword raised. He doesn’t see the sword the soldier has pointed at his belly but Liam has. This is the moment, this is it. He has to choose between killing someone who he used to be friends with and who – according to his own words – is only doing what the king wants from him or letting him kill Zayn, who was nice to him even though Liam’s father killed his mother. The choice is not hard.

Nothing but a gurgle escapes the man’s mouth as Liam buries his sword into Sander’s chest. He probably has a look of utter surprise on his face as blood starts to flow from the hole in his chest. He sinks to his knees, hitting the earth with a dull thud before his upper body keels over, wringing Liam’s sword from his grip. Zayn is standing frozen with his sword still raised.

Around them, the fights have stopped. Liam’s eyes remain on the body of his friend, who he has killed for a boy he barely knows. There’s no way back from here,  is there? He just sealed his own fate.

Liam’s legs can no longer hold him up, severely drained of adrenaline now that the immediate danger has been eliminated. He lands next to Sander’s dead body and Liam lets the tears slip. He’s not going to try to fight them. Not this time.

Zayn sits down on his knees next to Liam and lays a hand on his back. He shuffles closer and takes Liam’s head in his other hand. He pulls Liam close to him and murmurs in his ear. “Everything is alright now. You’re going to be okay. Ace will patch you back up.”

Ace, the medical man who travels with the rebels, only has the chance to have a look at Liam when camp has been made. He has to look at other people who need his gifts more, first.

But Liam doesn’t have to endure the wait alone. Zayn stays by his side the whole time, murmuring encouragement into his ears. His hands never stop touching Liam and the prince doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s a nice feeling, having someone worry about you and it tells Liam that he means a lot to Zayn too.

Ace tells them the wound isn’t too deep. He just needs to burn it closed and then he’s going to be as good as new. Tears start flowing down Zayn’s cheek when he hears Liam is going to be alright.

As the sun goes down, Zayn lays his burning sword on Liam’s wound. His tries soothing him by whispering sweet nothings to him as the white-hot metal scourges his wound closed. Liam’s cheeks are damp with tears when they’re finished.

After Zayn has put some balm on his wound to dull the burn, he and  Harry help Liam sit up from where he’d been lying on the log. He hisses at the pain moving only this little causes him. Harry helps him put his tunic back on. The wool is painful when it rubs against the wound but it keeps the chill of the night away.

Zayn sits down next to Liam and hands him over some food. With trembling hands, Liam takes the bowl from him. It’s filled with some sort of vegetable stew that makes Liam’s stomach rumble. “Thank you,” Liam mumbles. Zayn answer with a squeeze to Liam’s knee.

“How many dead?” Zayn asks Harry as he fills a bowl of his own with stew. This time they’re seated on  the log closest to the fire.

Harry, who unlike Zayn has had the time to find information about casualties, replies. “Only fifteen. At least on our side. We left none of the soldier alive.”

Liam’s stomach drops at the news. These are his father’s men, he grew up with some of them and now they’re all dead. Just like Sander.

Tiredness unables Liam to stop tears from trickling down his cheeks afresh. Zayn, now noticing everything concerning Liam, doesn’t miss the falling of the drops of water.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, careful, one hand on Liam’s knee. He’s leaning forwards and he’s so close that Liam could kiss him.

Liam adverts his eyes. He rubs his cheeks as he tries to regulate his breathing. “He was a friend 

of mine. At least, I saw him as a friend. And now I killed him.” Liam has to stop talking for a little bit because his chest feels too tight. Tears are starting to fall quicker now. “I knew some of the men that were killed and I know you had no other choice, but still.”

“They are still people, I know,” Harry says softly. Liam’s eyes find his and Harry smiles at him with tear-filled eyes. “They’re people you grew up with. It’s okay to be upset about their deaths. You never knew what kind of monsters they were.”

“I don’t think all of them are,” Liam protests, shaking his head slowly as not to inflict pain on himself. “I think some of them just do what they thing their king wants. Sander was never a monster.”

Liam doesn’t know if Harry and Zayn believe him or that they just don’t want to argue with him. Whatever the reason, they don’t comment on his statement. They just look at him with kindness in their eyes, while eat the warm stew as the stars shine above them.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, their journey is longer then they’re originally planned. Because they made camp much earlier, they now have an extra time they have to travel.

But, according to Zayn, who’s sitting behind Liam on the horse while he holds the reins, they didn’t have to do much traveling to begin with, so it won’t take long to get to their destination. At the end of the day, they’re going to arrive at the stronghold and once there, the plan of attack will be initiated.

The journey may be short but it’s going to be a very painful one. Every movement of the horse pulls on Liam’s wound and makes his tunic rub against it. Liam had hoped the pain who have lessened but it appears the goddess of luck is not on his side today. Maybe he should start praying again.

“Are you still doing okay?” Zayn asks, when he hears Liam hiss for the umpteenth time. Liam’s skin prickles as Zayn runs a hand up and down his arm.

“Yeah, it just hurts a little,” Liam replies. He clinches his teeth together, trapping the next hiss that threatens to escape. “There’s nothing to be done about it. That’s what I get from saving you.” Liam chuckles. It doesn’t hurt too bad.

“I’ll get hurt next time, deal?” Zayn jokes. He gives Liam’s arm a squeeze before grabbing a hold of the reigns again. “I’ll be the one saving you the next time we’ll get into a fight.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.” Liam doesn’t know what the rebels’ plan of attack is, but he hopes it doesn’t involve the possibility of Zayn getting hurt.

“I’m afraid it’ll be inevitable,” Zayn remarks. There is lightness to his tone but there’s also a sadness, something sharp.

Zayn doesn’t say anything else, probably not allowed to share more about the rebels’ plans with Liam. For a few moments, both boy stay silent; the only sound the conversations of the other soldier and the clicking of the hooves on the stones.

“Was this your own choice?” Liam asks.

“What was?” Zayn returns, confusion coloring his voice.

“Joining your dad’s rebel army?” Liam clarifies.

Zayn must not like the question because Liam can feel him stiffen against his back. Liam wants to kick himself. What if the question makes Zayn become distant again?

“Yeah, it was my own choice,” Zayn replies. Liam can feel anticipation spread through his veins. This moment feels important, even more important than the moment Zayn first kissed him. Zayn is going to bare his heart to Liam and for the first time, it’s not in anger or with the purpose of trying to convince him.

“My father didn’t want me in his army but I insisted. I wanted to avenge my mother and I couldn’t do that if I stayed at the farm.”

“Your dad’s a farmer?” Liam asks, surprised. He would never have guessed that someone with Malik’s charisma was someone who worked the land. He’d assumed he was at least someone important.

“Yeah. He learned himself to fight with a sword. He thought me in turn.”

“That must have been wonderful,” Liam murmurs, wistfully. What he wouldn’t give for his father to have thought him how to use a sword. Instead, like with everything else, it was taught to him by a tutor. Who wasn’t as good as Sebastian.

Shit. Why did he have to think of Sebastian? The wound is still so fresh and here he is, thinking about his friend. Liam can already feel the tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

“Who taught you?” Zayn asks.

“Some tutor. He was a bit rubbish.” Liam can hear the quiver in his voice. He quickly chuckles because he doesn’t want Zayn to know he’s upset.

“I would’ve thought the king would only hire the best,” Zayn jokes.

“Me too,” Liam replies, forced cheerfulness making his voice sound a bit strained.

Another hour passes before Malik decides they’re going to take a quick break. They’re in the middle of the forest and the sun is at its zenith.

Zayn helps Liam off of the horse. Liam lands only centimeters away from Zayn with both hands on his shoulders. Zayn face is so close, if he leaned a little bit closer he could kiss him. The lips look so pink, so inviting. He can’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from them.

“Are you guys going to kiss?”

The familiar voice breaks Liam from his trans. He quickly creates distance between  him and Zayn. Harry is standing next to them with a grin on his face. He must have sneaked up on them when Liam had been too preoccupied to notice him.

“Not anymore,” Zayn mutters. He gives Liam a quick wink before turning to Harry. “Is there something you want from me?”

“Can’t a friend just say hi without wanting something?” Harry asks, both eyebrows raised.

“Not when they see their friend was about to kiss someone,” Zayn retorts. He raises one eyebrow himself. It’s soon joined by a lopsided smile.

Harry lets out a barking laugh before shaking his head. “You’re right. I _do_ want something from you, lover boy. Your dad asked me to get you. Apparently he wants to speak with you.”

“Alright.” Zayn lets out a sigh. “I’ll go to him, then.” He turns to Liam. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Sure he is. I’m going make sure he stays out of trouble,” Harry announces. He grabs a hold of Zayn and stars pushing him away from Liam. “Now go. Don’t let your father wait.”

“Don’t push me,” Zayn complains, his voice full of objection but he doesn’t push back. He turns around one last time to give Liam an reassuring smile before walking away.

Liam watches him go and he already misses him even though he can still see him. But then he’s swallowed up by the mass of soldiers and suddenly Liam feels alone.

“He’s just going to talk to his father. You don’t have to worry. He’s coming back.” Harry has taken a step closer to Liam and has one hand on his back. It feels nice but not as nice as if it had been Zayn’s hand.

Liam isn’t too sure if what Harry is saying is true. Maybe Malik wants to talk to Zayn because he’s seen how close Liam and his son have become. What if he wants Zayn to stop looking after Liam?

He doesn’t voice this fear to Harry. Instead, he grabs a hold of the horse’s reigns, who much to Liam’s surprise hadn’t walked away, and starts leading him towards were the rest of the horses are tied to the trees. Harry follows him closely.

After Liam’s insured the black horse can reach the grass she wants to nibble on, he and Harry start walking through the group of rebels. Some of them have sat down on the ground while others are still roaming around. Like always, everybody eyes Liam as he walks by.

But unlike the times before he’d felt like some freak show at the fair, Liam doesn’t feel like having to endure their judgment right now. He doesn’t want to be followed around by the opinions others have of him. So, he decides he wants to take a walk in the forest. He doesn’t bother asking Harry if he’s allowed, he just walks away from the group and into the curtain of trees in front of him.

Leaves rustle as Harry follows him but the rebel does nothing to stop Liam. He just stays a few steps behind as they keep getting farther and farther away from the small army.

“I think we’ve walked far enough,” Liam hears Harry announce, out of the blue. Liam thinks he’s probably right, they’ve been walking for a while now and the sound of the band of rebels has faded into silence.

Liam stops walking. He looks at the trees around him, searching for the most comfortable one. When he’s made up his mind, he sits down beneath it. Harry follows his example.

“Zayn is going to wander where you are,” Harry warns Liam.  His breathing is labored and there’s sweat trickling down his face.

“I’m going back before he’s finished talking to his father. He won’t miss me.”

Harry lays his head back against the tree and closes his eyes. “You know, Niall likes you. He thinks you’re a nice lad but he’s still angry at your dad, so he doesn’t really know how to treat you. It’s probably the same with the rest of the men. I know you think they do, but they don’t hate you.”

Even though Liam’s not so sure if it’s true, it feels nice having Harry trying to make him feel better. Liam lays his own head back but his eyes remain open. He watches the yellow and orange colored leaves as the wind toys with them. He feels like an autumn leave himself, tossed around by the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of his head.

Somewhere to their left, there’s suddenly the sound of marching men. Liam sits upright as he hears the heavy footfall of men walking in armor. It doesn’t sound too far away from them, which is bad. Very bad.

Harry has heard it as well and he’s already on his feet. He’s looking at Liam with wide eyes and grabs a hold of Liam’s arm. “Come on, Liam. They can’t find us. We need to climb into the tree.” 

“I can’t climb,” Liam hisses as he gets to his feet. Panic is flooding his veins, making his heart beat rapidly.

“I’m going to help you. You go first.”

Harry gives Liam instructions to climb the tree, which is luckily easier then Liam had feared. When Liam is safely sitting on the highest branches, Harry sitting on the one just below his, a small army of palace guards walks towards the tree. Liam holds on to the branches with all his might because he can’t fall down.

But then he sees that one of the men is the only one wearing armor. And he has a crown on his head. He must be the one impersonating his father. Liam almost loses his balance from the shock.

Suddenly, a young woman walks from behind a tree. She stops dead in her tracks when she sees the palace guard, her eyes widening in fear. The basket she’ d been caring falls to the leaves covered ground. She turns around with a swish of her skirt and she tries to run. But Liam’s father’s men are not planning on allowing her to get away. They grab her and she lets out a cry in fear.

The person impersonating the king walks towards her. Liam can’t see his face but he must have a scary look on it because the woman starts crying. “Please, let me go, my king. Please.”

Liam can’t look on and do nothing. He can’t just let someone pretend to be his father and scare his people when he can do something about it.

“Harry,” Liam whispers as he pokes Harry with his toe. Harry almost falls out of the tree from shock but he holds onto his branch just in time to prevent himself from toppling over. He looks up at Liam, eyes narrowed and an angry tilt to his mouth.

“I’m going to save the girl, you get help,” Liam whispers at Harry. He hopes Harry can hear him or at least is able to read his lips.

Harry must have understood Liam because his eyes become big and he starts shaking his head feverously. Liam ignores the plea that’s plainly visible on Harry’s eyes and pushes himself from the branch. He lands painfully on his ankle and Liam lets out a cry in agony.

All of the king’s guards turn their heads in Liam’s direction. Liam hears Harry land behind him and suddenly he feels something cold being pressed into his hand. Harry is giving him his sword. “You really are crazy. I’ll be back before you know it,” he mutters into Liam’s ear.

None of the guards stop Harry as he runs away, because all of them recognize the boy standing in front of him.

“Who dares …,” the king impersonator thunders with a voice that sounds eerily like Liam’s father’s. He turns around and walks out from between his men.

Liam almost drops the sword because the man standing in front of him looks _exactly_ like his father. He has the same brown eyes, the same sandy blonde hair, the same full lips, the same freckles on his nose. He even has the scare beneath his left eye.  Liam can’t breathe. This can’t be true. It just can’t be.

But it is, because he recognizes the way the man says Liam’s name, like he used to before Liam’s mother had died. Full of love.

“What are you doing to that woman?” Liam asks with a quivering voice. His sword hand trembles and Liam’s afraid he’s going to drop his weapon. 

“That woman is not important,” the king dismisses. He looks at his son with furrowed eyebrows and he takes a step closer. Liam takes a step back. “I’m so happy you’re safe. I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_.”

“It didn’t seem like you were looking for _me_ , a few moments ago,” Liam barks at his father. So, Sebastian had been right, his father had been looking for him. Liam hadn’t believed him because he’d doubted his father would’ve noticed he was gone. “What were you planning on doing with the woman. Don’t you dare lie to me!”

The king presses his lips together and spares a fleeting glance behind him at the woman. She flinches away and starts to whimper. The king turns his head back towards his son. “I was just going to have some fun with her for a bit. You know, the same way you have fun with the servants.”

So, his father did pay attention to what Liam did when he was away. “I never forced myself on the servants.” He can’t believe his father would accuse him of something that horrible. His stomach turns and he wants to throw up.

“Of course you do. Maybe you didn’t use physical force but did you really think they would sleep with you if you weren’t their prince?”

Liam’s stomach sinks because, is that really true? Is that _really_ the only reason why the servants had sex with him? And even if that was the cause, why is his father telling him this? Does he really think all Liam has to offer someone is his title?

“Even if that was the case, it was their own choice. I never told them I would fire them or something if they didn’t sleep with me,” Liam protests. He’s inching closer to his father, anger expanding inside of his chest. He never knew he could be _this_ angry at his father. And then suddenly a realization hits, one that makes his hands shake. Liam seizes all movement, nailed to the ground in horror.

“So, what – what – Malik is saying about you, is – is true?” Liam demands to know, his voice shaking. He doesn’t want to believe it, but it must be true. He’s seen with his own eyes his father is capable of such things. “You tried to rape his wife and when you didn’t succeed, you killed her?”

The king’s eyes glaze over and he lets out a sigh. “She tried to fight me. Cut me in the arm. The physician had to almost cut it off because it started to fester. I had to kill her. She refused me.”

So, his father really _is_ a monster. Liam can’t deny it any longer. He admitted it to Liam’s face. And there’s no way this man standing in front of him is not his father. He could never mistake even a doppelganger for his flesh and blood.

“You should’ve let her be!” Liam yells. He’s slowly inching forwards, sword at the ready to burry into his father’s chest. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest but his grip is steady. “Her son saw you! Zayn saw everything!”

A scowl appears on the king’s face at the mention of Malik’s son. “So, you’re on first name basis with that brat? Did they brainwash you? Are you going to kill me?”

Liam isn’t too sure of the answer. He hates his father. Hates him for putting Zayn through so much pain. But he doesn’t know if he has it in him to kill his own father. He doesn’t know if he wants to see him dead. It’s still his father. This is still the man who came to his bedside when he was sick as a child, the man who bought him his first horse, the man who made him want to be the best king the kingdom could ever have.

The choice to let his father live or not, is taken away from him when there’s the sound of running footsteps behind Liam. Harry is back and he’s taken a small army with him. There’s Niall and Louis, together with three more men and Zayn. He’s probably come along to avenge his mother, but Liam hopes he’s also there because he wants to protect Liam as well.

“Liam,” Harry says softly as he lays his hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to kill your father.”

“Isn’t that why you took me? So I would kill my own father?” Liam hisses, his voice unsteady.

“No, we took you so you could _help_ us kill him. There’s a difference. We would never ask of you to kill your own father.” Harry lays his other hand on Liam’s sword arm and tries to push it down. “Just let it go. _We’ll_ do it.”

“We’ll cut you down before you hurt our king,” one of the guards warns. He looks at the rebels with narrowed eyes and his sword raised in a warning.

“I would advice against that,” Niall advices merrily, a grin on his face even though he and his friends are outnumbered. “There’s a whole army of rebels behind us. If we don’t return, they’re going to hunt you down and kill you.”

“But if you hand the king over to us, no harm will come to you,” Zayn tells the guards. He takes a step forward, his head held high and his posture that of a man assured of his success. The only thing that gives away his nerves is the slight tremble of his hand. “You all will receive a fair trial when my father is king.”

“A filthy peasant like Malik will never be king.” The guard spits on the ground, a look of disgust on his face.

Zayn’s face, which was well composed only a moment ago, is distorted by a look of hatred. But even now, Liam thinks he looks beautiful. “My father is twice the man you’ll ever be.”

The guard must not take lightly to insult because with a cry of anger, he runs towards Zayn with his sword raised. The rest of the guards see it as their cue to attack as well. One of them runs straight towards Liam.

“Don’t hurt my son!” The king calls out and for a moment Liam thinks his father wants him to stay alive. “I want to kill him _myself_. He betrayed me!”

Liam wants to cry. His father wants him dead, but he doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. The man he used to see as someone he wanted to be, is stalking towards him with murder in his eyes. And then he attacks.

The first couple of blows are easy to deflect. His father must have not fought in a long time because his moves are clumsy and he isn’t quick enough. But the king is improving. He appears to start to remember with every move of his sword how he used to defeat his enemies.

As the king gains confidence, he starts talking as well. “You’re an ungrateful brat. I gave everything in the world and your repay me by stabbing me in the back.”

“You gave me the world? You were never there,” Liam fires back. He block another blow but he stumbles. His ankle throbs painfully.

“I had a kingdom to rule. I couldn’t be around all the time.” The king attacks again and this time he cuts Liam’s shirt. There’s no blood.

“Who said anything about all of the time. You were never there. When you were at the castle, you were always locked in your room.” This time Liam tries to attack, fuelled by his anger. The king deflects it easily.

Liam takes a step back and he and his father starts circling each other. “But that’s not what this about. You are raping women. All the stories the rebels told me about you are probably true. I can’t let you rule this kingdom any longer.”

Because Liam loves this land. He loves the people he saw and the beautiful sights he passed through. He can’t let his father be the ruler over the land he’s fallen in love with. He’s always been proud of his country, but this past week has made Liam realize he would do anything to keep it from harm. He would even pass up his chance to become king if he had to.

And Zayn. Oh beautiful and wonderful Zayn. Liam wants him to have justice and if he has to fight his father to get it, so be it.

“That Zayn boy has turned your head, hasn’t he?  Such a pretty boy. Have you already fucked. Is that why he has you wrapped around his little finger?” The king taunts.

“No it’s you, You changed my mind when I saw you for the monster you are!” Liam hisses at his father.

“No! _You_ are here the monster. You killed your own mother,” the king yells at Liam.

Liam’s heart freezes and stops beating for a few moments. Suddenly, everything feels cold. “What do you mean. I didn’t kill mother.”

“Yes, you did!” The king attacks and much to Liam’s mortification, he knocks Liam’s sword from his hand. His father lifts the sword higher and puts it to his throat. The noise around them seems to fade away as the sword forces Liam backwards and against the tree behind him. Sweat trickles down his neck as Liam feels the bark dig into his back. “You got sick and you – and you gave it to your mother. _You_ should’ve died, not her.”

Liam can’t remember getting sick around the time his mother died. Could it be that his father is making it up? But no, that can’t be. Why else would his father look at him with such hatred. “And now I’m going to do what the disease was unable to.”

The pressure on Liam’s throat increases and he has to close his eyes but then suddenly, it’s gone. He opens his eyes again, carefully. His father is looking at him with a look of surprise. His eyes descend until he’s looking at his own waist. There’s a sword sticking out of his belly, only a hairbreadth away from Liam’s and it’s covered in blood.

The king falls to his knees, on the ground, next to the sword, revealing Zayn standing behind him, bloody sword in hand. He topples to the side and falls face first.

Zayn is holding Liam in his arms only moments later. He’s stroking his back and whispers into Liam’s ear. “It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you. It’s over.”

Liam can no longer hold the tears at bay. He allows them to roll down his cheeks. It’s difficulty to breath as he starts to heave uncontrollably. His father was killed. Right in front of his eyes. Did Zayn feel like this when Liam’s father killed his mother?

“I’m sorry. I had too. He was going to kill you.”

Liam wants to say he knows, because he does, but no words make it past his lips. All he can do right now his cry.

The others have stopped fighting as well. Liam can see through his tears that one rebel has died but the rest of the victims are guards. Louis appears to be limping but the rest seem to be fine.

“We’re going back,” Niall tells Liam and Zayn as he kneels down next to them. His face is smeared with blood and dirt. Liam can see pity in Niall’s eyes and he can’t take it. He buries his face into Zayn’s shoulder. “You can come back when Liam’s able to walk. I’ll tell them you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Niall,” Zayn replies, his voice barely above a whisper.                    

The leaves make a scrounging sound as the rebels leave. There’s a soft breeze that rustles the rest of the leaves that are still in the trees. Soon Liam and Zayn will be alone.

When the sound of footsteps have receded, Liam finds it suddenly easier to breath. The tremors that had been wrecking his body have slowed down.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.” Liam’s voice is hoarse and unsteady.

“Of course I was going to save you.” Zayn pulls back from the embrace a little and lays one hand on the side of Liam’s face. Liam lets out a shuddery breath and it makes Zayn’s hair flutter for a moment. “I wasn’t going to just let you die. I care about you. You means so much to me, Liam.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Because you’ve got such a big heart?” Zayn replies, a smile on his lips. His eyes are wet with tears. “Because you are different from your father? Because I’m in love with you?”

Zayn pulls Liam’s face closer and kisses him. His lips are careful as he moves them against Liam’s and the touch of his hand is like feathers. Liam kisses back with just as much tenderness.

When they part, Liam has a smile on his face as well. His hands have settled on Zayn’s hips and even though there’s a small space between them, Liam has never felt this close with Zayn. “We should probably head back. Your father is going to want to congratulate you for killing the enemy.”

“We should probably head back,” Zayn admits with a sigh. He winks at Liam and caresses his cheek with his thumb. “Just know I would rather stay alone with you.”

Zayn’s words makes Liam feel all fuzzy inside. All he can think about is, Zayn’s in love with him. He cares for him and wants him. He would rather stay on the damp forest floor with Liam then be celebrated by his father and his men.

“We can be alone in the tent. It’s better than sitting on the forest floor anyway.”

“You’re probably right,” Zayn snickers.

Zayn gets back on his feet and helps Liam up as well. He doesn’t let go of Liam’s hand and they walk hand in hand back to the camp.

As soon as they enter the camp, the rebels flock around them. George isn’t one of them , he was killed when the guards attacked Malik’s army. Every single one of the rebels pat Zayn on the back and congratulate him for killing their most hated enemy. Zayn lets Liam’s hand slip from his grasp in the mayhem that ensues. People are pushing and pulling him away from Liam. And Liam suddenly feels naked and exposed. He wants to hide. Hide away from the people who he knows hate him even now. They don’t know he’s discovered who his father really is. He tries to disentangle himself from the group, walking backwards, out of the crowd with both his arms wrapped around himself. He isn’t supposed to be here. They’re celebrating his father’s death. But then he bumps against a toned chest.

“Careful,” the voice of Harry sounds from behind him. A chuckle follows as arms grab a hold of Liam’s to steady him.  He immediately recognizes them as belonging to Harry.

Liam turns around, ankle still throbbing. He’s going to have to lay down. His tent is the perfect place for it. Harry is smiling at Liam but there’s pity in his eyes. Liam can feel the tight grip on his heart lessen a little. “Thank you for getting help.” Liam knows none of the other rebels would’ve done the same.

“I wasn’t going to let you take on your dad all on your own,” Harry declares. He gives Liam a look that says ‘How could you even think so’. It is indeed not very becoming of him to think Harry would abandon him like that, Harry has always been civil to him, but he’d also thought he knew his father and Liam had been wrong about him.

“I’m sorry,” Liam mumbles. He drags his hand over his face and lets air escape between his teeth. His arm starts shaking as he takes another deep breath, his legs just as unsteady.

“Hey Li. It’s alright.” Harry takes a step  closer and lays a hand on Liam’s shoulder. The touch feels nice. Harry looks at Liam with kind eyes and a crooked smile. “Let’s get you to your tent, yeah.”

Harry curls his arm around Liam’s waist and tugs Liam closer to him. Liam doesn’t resist, just lets the curly-haired rebel take him to his tent. He leans against Harry as they make their way through the camp, their steps careful.

When they’ve finally made it to the tent, Liam tries to stand on his own. His legs however refuse to support his weight and he almost falls to his knees. Harry is quick enough to catch him.

“Careful there,” Harry admonishes him with a chuckle. He hoists Liam back up so he’s standing straight again. ”We don’t want you getting more injuries, do we. Come on, I’ll help you to your bed.”

“I’m so sorry,” Liam apologizes. Harry would probably rather be celebrating with the rest right now instead of helping Liam walk.

“That’s alright. No need to apologize,” Harry chastises, jovially. He smiles at Liam and squeezes the arm he has around Liam’s waist a little tighter. Liam hisses as the wound on his chest throbs painfully. Now it’s Harry’s turn to apologize.

Harry helps Liam walk into the tent and towards the bed. He keeps his arm around Liam’s waist as he sits down on the simple bed the rebels provided for him yesterday. Liam had taken it as a gesture that they were starting to count him as one of them. And Liam guesses that is what he’s now. He’s a rebel. And outlaw.

“Do you want me to stay?” Harry asks as Liam lays down on his back. He lets out a sigh and feels his body relax. His bones and muscle slowly start to ache.

“I want to be alone, if you don’t mind,” Liam admits softly. He closes his eyes, willing the tears not to fall just yet.

“Sure.” Liam can hear Harry’s joints crack as he hears the sound of rustling clothes to his right. His voice sounds father away when he says, “I’m going to tell Zayn you’re in your tent. He’s probably going to want to talk to you.”

Harry is probably right. Zayn has probably forgotten they were going to go to his tent together but he’s still going to want to check up on Liam. He better be done with crying by then.

Harry’s footfall becomes fainter. The front flap of the tent rustles as Harry lifts it and disappears behind into the twilight. Liam breathes, one time, two times, three times, and then he can no longer keep the tears at bay. He lets them flow down his cheeks and neck, sobs racking his body. His fingers become soaked when he covers his eyes with his hands.

There’s a hollow feeling in Liam’s chest and it claws away at his heart. He can’t think, can’t breathe, all he can do is feel. Feel the loss, the pain, the heartbreak. His father is dead and he would do anything to change that. His father didn’t deserve to die like that, not even after everything he’s done.

But Liam doesn’t understand it. His father was the man who tormented his people, who killed so many, who killed Zayn’s mother. Shouldn’t Liam be happy? Zayn’s finally able to have peace with his mother’s death. Shouldn’t Liam rejoice in that?

“Liam…” a voice says softly, carefully and Liam opens his eyes. Zayn is standing at the entrance of the tent, his eyes wet with unshed tears as they take in the sight of a crying Liam. Liam tears his eyes away because he can’t bear Zayn to see him like this.

“You know, it’s okay to mourn your father’s death,” Zayn tells Liam. The front flap falls closed, the heavy cloth rustling as Zayn releases his hold. Liam can hear him walk towards him and he has to turn his head away.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Soft fingers take a hold of Liam’s chin and tug his head in the other direction. “Please, Liam. Open your eyes.”

Liam can’t refuse Zayn anything. The darker boy smiles at him, his thumb caressing Liam’s jaw. Liam can’t suppress a pleasant shudder at the intimate gesture. “I understand. It’s okay to mourn your father. He may be a horrible man but he’s still the man who gave you live. You can cry. I won’t hate you.”

“I don’t think I can cry anymore,” Liam admits. He still can feel tears pricking in the corners of his eyes but he doesn’t have the urge to cry uncontrollably anymore. He just feels really tired and really in need of an hug.

Zayn doesn’t protests as Liam throws his arms around his neck and buries his face into his nap. Zayn smells delicious, a mix between sweat, steel and green grass. Liam’s lips move against Zayn’s tan skin as he presses a small kiss to his neck. Zayn’s heart skips a beat and Liam can feel it against the soft skin of his lips. The feeling makes something thrum in Liam’s veins.

His heart is thudding when Liam pulls back from the embrace. Zayn looks beautiful , his eyelashes dark, his eyes the color of autumn leaves and his lips pink as a rose. They seem to be calling out to Liam and he can’t resists them. He slowly moves closer, his eyes flitting between Zayn’s lips and his eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. He doesn’t see any and he surges forward.

Zayn’s lips are soft, a little bit chapped. They move deliciously against Liam’s, his scent invading Liam’s nose. Zayn cradles Liam’s face, beckoning him even closer to him. Liam moves to come closer and then suddenly, Zayn’s lips are gone.

“Let me,” Zayn whispers, the hoarseness of his voice igniting a fire in Liam’s veins. Zayn grins at him when he stands up and crawls into Liam’s bed. It protests against the added weight but Zayn ignores the creaking. He lays down on Liam, entangling their legs. He leans on his arms as he looks down at Liam with dark, intense eyes, setting the fire in Liam’s veins ablaze.

“Look at you,” Zayn groans. His eyes trails down Liam’s torso, taking in every inch and Liam can feel himself blush at the attention. Zayn’s eyes find their way back to Liam’s face. His thumb starts playing with Liam’s lower lip. “Look at that mouth of yours. Bet you can do many wonderful things with it.” A stab of arousal shots to Liam’s groin and he can feel himself fatten up in his breeches.

“Do you want me?” Liam asks. He has to swallow to get the rest of the words out. “Do you really want me like that?”

In lieu of an answer, Zayn presses his groin up against Liam’s leg and oh, he’s hard. Liam’s lets out a whimper, making Zayn grin predatorily at him.

One of Zayn’s hands has made a journey to Liam’s leg and is slowly inching closer to the front of his breeches. His fingers leave a trail of fire in their wake and before long Liam is as hard as a rock. When Zayn’s hand has made it to Liam’s cock, he squeezes it through the material. Liam lets out a chocked-off noise and whimpers as Zayn moves his hand against Liam’s hard-on.

“Fuck, you’re big, aren’t you,” Zayn curses. He looks down at Liam with hungry eyes, who has his own closed. His head is fogged up, but he’s able to hear Zayn’s words. He flushes a the compliment. “I can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

Liam whimpers, unable to keep his hips from pressing upwards. Zayn lets out a hiss as Liam’s leg rubs up against his cock. Liam can clearly feel it, hot and heavy and suddenly he wants it inside him really bad. It would probably feel fantastic, all hard and big inside him. “Fuck, please fuck me, Zayn. Need you inside me.”

“Fuck,” Zayn groans, his eyes becoming even darker. His tongue pokes out between his lips to wet them. Liam follows the movement, transfixed. “Are you sure you want to go this fast? I can just suck you off instead.”

The offer sounds tempting but he really wants to feel Zayn inside of him. “That sounds great as well but I really want you to fuck me.” Liam parts his legs even father, the lower part of his legs no longer on the bed. “Please.”

“Fuck, yeah. If you’re sure.”

“Yes, I am.” To prove his point, Liam starts tugging at his shirt. But he’s stopped by tan hands.

“Let me do that,” Zayn whispers huskily. He pulls Liam’s tunic over his head and drops it on the ground. His eyes roam hungrily over Liam’s torso, making the skin turn a pretty pink color.

Hands start caressing Liam’s chest, making goose bumps erupt. After Zayn has covered every inch, he takes a hold of Liam’s nipples with his nimble fingers and pinches them.

“Fuck,” Liam curses as his cock twitches in his breeches. He throws his head back as sparks fleet up and down his body every time Zayn flicks one of his nipples.

“Aren’t you sensitive. Fuck, you look amazing like this,” Zayn groans. “Can’t wait to see how you look when you come on my cock.” Liam lets out an shameless whimper at Zayn’s words.

Zayn stops playing with Liam’s nipples . Liam opens his eyes and grabs Zayn’s hips as the darker boy moves to straddle his hips. Their cocks line up as Zayn tugs his tunic over his head.

The chest that’s being revealed to Liam looks amazing. Expanses of tan skin move over defined muscles  as Zayn drops his shirt to the ground. Liam wants to touch every inch of it but suddenly Zayn is moving away. He starts untying Liam’s breeches and before long he’s tugging them down. Liam hisses when his naked cock is exposed to the cold air which turns into a groan when Zayn wraps his hand around the rigid flesh. Zayn let’s Liam’s breeches fall to the floor but his eyes remain trained on Liam’s hard dick. He tugs at it a couple of times and then he’s moving back again. This time, he’s untying his own breeches. Liam sucks in a sharp breath when Zayn’s hard cock bobs into his line of sight. There’s already pre-cum gathering on the head, prompting Liam’s cock to start leaking as well.

Zayn leans to the side and searches for something on the floor. Liam already misses Zayn’s eyes on him. Thankfully, it doesn’t take Zayn long to find whatever he’s looking for. His eyes find Liam’s again as he holds up a bottle. Liam recognizes it as the bottle that holds the lotion Zayn puts on his wound every day.

“Have you slept with men before?” Zayn asks. He’s running a hand up and down Liam’s leg, his touch and gaze a tad harsher suddenly.

“No but I know how it’s done,” Liam promises. He’s seen two of the male cooks get at it when he was fourteen. He smiles at Zayn and lifts his legs. “Come on. Put your fingers in me.”

“Are you always this eager?” Zayn asks, his smile lopsided and a fond look in his eyes. His caresses have become soft again.

“Only for you.” Liam can feel his cheeks heat up but he doesn’t regret his words. It’s the truth. He’s always liked sex, but he’s never been hungry for it before like he is right now.

Before Liam can blink, Zayn’s lips are on his again. He tangles his fingers in Zayn’s hair as the other boy presses his lips against his feverously. He opens his mouth to the press of Zayn’s tongue against his lips.

Zayn must have uncorked the bottle and coated his fingers while they were kissing because Liam suddenly feels something press up against his puckered entrance. Liam lets out a whimper and presses his hips forwards. Zayn must understand what Liam is trying to say without words because he presses his finger past Liam’s entrance and Liam lets out a gasp as he enters.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Zayn groans. He’s moving his finger against Liam’s walls, in search for his sweet spot. And then he brushes his finger up against the small bundle of nerves, making sparks fly against Liam’s closed eyelids. Ripples of pleasure coarse through his body as Zayn keeps moving against his prostrate.

Sweat starts trickling down Liam’s chest as Zayn presses another finger inside of Liam. He mouths against the flushed skin of Liam’s neck, running his tongue up and down Liam’s stubble. It feels amazing, being stretched like this. Liam moans out in approval, pressing his hips forwards so Zayn’s fingers slip deeper. Zayn grunts and Liam can see him press is own hips down against the bed.

“Please, another. I want another. Fuck, I can take it.” Liam can’t wait any longer. He can feel the desire burn in his veins and he’s afraid it’s going to combust if he doesn’t feel Zayn’s cock pressed inside of him soon.

“Fuck, my sweet prince. So eager,” Zayn groans. He abandons Liam’s neck and looks at Liam with eyes that are dilated with arousal, only a slither of brown still remaining. He presses another finger inside of Liam, making a mess of Liam’s stomach as his cock begins to weep uncontrollably.

“Fuck,” Zayn curses, feeling the wetness of Liam’s cock against his own stomach. He moves his fingers inside of Liam, once, twice, before he extracting them from Liam’s hole. Liam, immediately, feels empty, his hole gaping as Zayn coats his cock with lotion.

Zayn lines his cock up to Liam’s hole and as he looks Liam in the eyes, enters him. Liam feels every delicious inch enter him, the amazing feeling makes his limbs tremble . When Zayn’s hips are flush with Liam’s ass, he stills for a moment.

He leans forward and kisses every inch of Liam’s shrugged up face, murmuring against the skin. “Fuck, you feel amazing. Look amazing. Who can blame me. If they could see you like this.”

Liam pushes his hips upwards, willing Zayn to move. Zayn takes the hint and starts fucking him. He moves slowly, dragging his cock against Liam’s inner walls, brushing against his prostate now and again. His hips move gracefully as he slowly starts driving Liam crazy.

“Harder. Fuck. I need…” Liam hasn’t finished his request when Zayn starts moving more quickly. He wraps his arm around Liam’s waist and pulls him even further on his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with their moans as Zayn starts fucking Liam relentlessly.

Zayn keeps murmuring how good he feels inside, how amazing he feels around his cock. He keeps calling Liam his prince and it makes Liam’s cock weep even more. Liam is unable to form any words as Zayn keeps jack rabbiting against his prostate.

But as Zayn gets closer to his orgasm, he too becomes to overwhelmed to talk coherently. He keeps moving quicker and quicker and then he wraps his hand around Liam’s cock. “I’m close. Fuck.”

Zayn starts tugging at Liam’s dick and when Zayn’s orgasm hits Liam isn’t too far behind. Zayn keeps stroking his cock as his hips stop moving. A wetness spreads inside of Liam as Zayn paints Liam’s insides with his release.

Zayn’s thumb drags over Liam’s chock head two more times before he follows Zayn over the edge. His ears pop and his back arches as streaks of come paint his stomach and chest white.

They don’t move as they come down from their orgasm. Liam’s limbs seem to have been made of lead as the waves of euphoric high recede. Zayn feels heavy on his chest but Liam doesn’t want him to move.

And Zayn doesn’t until Liam’s release has become tacky between them. Zayn mustn’t like the feeling because he stands up from the bed with shaky legs and walks butt naked towards were their clothes are lying on the ground. He bends over to pick something up and Liam is treated to the full view of Zayn’s ass. Liam lets out a groan at the sight. Zayn chuckles and stand straight again.

He has a flask and a piece of clothing in his hand as he walks back to the bed. He takes a hold of Liam’s legs and lifts them from the bed. He sits down on the spot were Liam’s legs had been lying only a moment ago and lays them back down on his lap.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Zayn announces. His smile is easy and warm as he folds the piece of clothing into a ball and pours water over it. Liam winches when Zayn starts rubbing his stomach with the ball of cloth, the water it’s drained with the temperature of ice. “Sorry,” Zayn apologizes. 

When  there are no traces left of Liam’s cum on his stomach, Zayn lets the piece of clothing fall back to the floor. He brings his hand to Liam’s leg and starts caressing it.  A pleasant buzz tickles beneath Liam’s skin, making him meld even deeper into the bed.

Liam can feel his eyes fall closed. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to fight the sleeps that’s weighing his eyelids down. The matrass feels really nice against his back and Zayn’s fingers are really soothing. All he can hear is his and Zayn’s breathing and the sound of a cheerful crowd, very far away.

But then, Zayn breaks the silence. “You know, dad was never going to let you kill your dad.”

Suddenly, the pleasant atmosphere is broken. Liam’s heart seizes up as the pleasant buzz is suddenly replaced by darkness. He opens his eyes and looks at Zayn, his eyebrows scrounged up and a frown on his lips. “How were you planning to use me, then?” Liam’s voice is hostile and a bit angry.

Zayn stops caressing Liam’s leg. His eyes remain on the calf. “We were going to…”

“Zayn, look at me,” Liam demands, voice raised. Zayn’s cheeks become a shade darker and his eyelashes flutter.

When Zayn turns his head, there’s a look of regret in his eyes. It makes the big ball of anger inside Liam’s chest grow a little smaller.

“We were going to use you to get inside the castle. We’re going to go to the castle during The Summer Feast and get inside the King’s private quarters with your help. _I_ was supposed to kill him, not you. My dad was never going to allow you to kill your own dad. You know my dad isn’t a monster, don’t you?”

“But why did he let me think I _did_ have to?” Liam demands to know. Tears are starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. Why did they make him believe he had to end his own father? Was it some big joke to them?

“I don’t know,” Zayn admits.

“But how do you know, than, that your father didn’t really mean it?”

“Because he told me before I came to your tent. He told me to tell you he didn’t want things to end like this.” Zayn’s eyes are pleading Liam to believe him and Liam can’t help but do. He can see from looking at Zayn’s face he is telling the truth.

“But it doesn’t really matter, does it,” Liam comments. He lets out a sigh and presses his eyes closed for a few moments. “My dad is dead and your father is going to take his place. You’re going to be the new crown prince and I’m going to be…”

Liam can’t bear to say nothing. He doesn’t know what the future holds anymore and it scares him. He’s no longer the crown prince and without that title he’s going to be nothing.

“You’re going to be right by my side.” Liam opens his eyes in surprise. Zayn is looking at him with tear-filled eyes and a look of love on his face that Liam can feel all the way in his smallest toe. The whole world narrows down to Zayn and what he just said. “I want you next to me, by my side when I rule the country. Maybe we won’t be lovers anymore by then but we can rule as friends. I know you love your country. You’re going to do what’s best for it. I love you and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Zayn,” Liam croaks out, his eyes shining with tears. The anger inside his chest disappears like snow under the sun and is replaced by pure love that makes his heart ache. “I love you too.”

Zayn leans down, putting his face closer to Liam’s. His eyes  become slits as he smiles at Liam. Puffs of air tickle Liam’s lips as Zayn leans even closer and presses his lips against Liam’s.

And just like that, they make a promise to stay together forever. They and the Gods knew that from then on their fates are intertwined. No one is going to able to break them apart.


	7. Epilogue

And that promise to always stay together is going to be made official today. From far and wide, people have come to the castle to see Liam and Zayn get crowned kings. It’s an unusual situation, two men ruling a kingdom but both Liam and Zayn knows they’ll be able to make it work.

At the moment, Liam is preparing himself for the ceremony. He’s going to have to wear a really great outfit but the king-to-be doesn’t know which one to choose. Maybe he can ask Zayn. He’s much better at that sort of thing. You would never have thought him a farmer’s son if you saw the way he dresses.  

Zayn is in another room, so Liam has to walk down the corridor with only his breeches on. None of the guards that were hired after The Trials blink an eye when Liam walks passed them with a naked torso.

“Zayn,” Liam calls out as he walks into the large room. His husband turns around where he’s standing in front of the small window. Zayn must have been watching something outside.

“What’s the matter, my prince?” Zayn still uses the nick name, even after all these years. And like always, it makes fondness bloom inside Liam’s chest.

“Can you help me find the right clothes?” Liam rubs the back of his neck as he looks at Zayn sheepishly. “I seem to be unable to make up my mind.”

“Sure. Or you can go to the ceremony dressed like this.” Zayn grins dirtily at Liam as he stalks towards him. Zayn hasn’t lost any of his grace with the years that’ve passed. He grabs Liam by his hips and plants a kiss on his lips.

“I think our guests would mind,” Liam chuckles, kissing back. “Not to mention the priest.”

“You’re probably right,” Zayn admits. “It’s probably for the better anyway. I don’t want someone else to know what your naked chest looks like.”

“It’s probably too late for that. The guards saw me.”

“You naught boy,” Zayn groans. He’s pulling Liam flush to him, hands on his ass. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“That’s indeed a good thing,” Liam agrees, voice soft.

Zayn helps Liam pick out an outfit, when they’ve made their way back to their bedroom. It’s really beautiful; breeches and tunic purple with a red lining. It looks really good with the red outfit Zayn wears as they walk into the big hall. All of the eyes of their guests are on them as they make their way down the aisle.

Both Liam and Zayn sit down on the thrones. The priests walks out in front of them and starts chanting verses. While the balding man calls on the gods in the sacred language, Liam lets his eyes wonder over the crowd gather in the castle. Some of them are people of noble birth – kings, counts, dukes – but some of them are former rebels. Right in front row, Harry, Niall and Louis are seated. All three of them are smiling at Liam and he relaxes instantly because of their friendly faces.

The priests stops chanting and turns towards the aisle. The king has entered the hall and all of the people rise. He looks magnificent on his black breeches and tunic, red cape trailing behind him and the golden crown balanced on his head. The king walks down the aisle with a face without emotion,  towards his son and his son’s husband. He sits down on the thrown next to Zayn’s.

Now is the moment everybody has come to the castle to see. No sound is made as the priests walks towards the king and takes off his crown. He walks towards Zayn and puts the crown down on his head. The priest steps to the side so he’s standing in front of Liam and picks up the crown that’s laying in a small purple pillow a little boy is holding. He puts the smaller crown, usually reserved for the queens, on Liam’s head. His mother’s crown feels heavy on his head.

The priests walks back to the elevated part of the platform he’d been standing on before and asks Liam and Zayn to say their vows. Both Liam and Zayn declare in the common tongue so that everybody can understand that they’re going to defend the land, care for their subjects and abide to the laws as declared by the gods. The priest gives them his blessing.

Liam and Zayn rise together. The crowd start cheering, welcoming their new kings.

None of the people gathered in the hall know that it’s the beginning of an age of prosperity. War won’t visit the country and trade will thrive during the years the two kings will rule the kingdom. They will love their subjects and their subject will love them in return.

But the gods know and they were well pleased.

 


End file.
